


Intellectual Stimulation

by Cartoon_Idiot_59, XFilesinAMajor



Category: Gravity Falls, Rick and Morty
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, F/M, Lobster, May/December Relationship, Sexual Content, implied/referenced ice cream abuse, possible war crimes, referenced rishathra
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:49:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 29,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23744101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cartoon_Idiot_59/pseuds/Cartoon_Idiot_59, https://archiveofourown.org/users/XFilesinAMajor/pseuds/XFilesinAMajor
Summary: Everyone is off fucking around with dragons and/or cats. Beth Smith is unhappy. Fortunately, something happens to brighten her day.
Relationships: Beth Smith/Ford Pines
Comments: 4
Kudos: 12





	Intellectual Stimulation

**Author's Note:**

> Beth's not having a good day. But it's about to get better.

Beth Smith was drunk.

_You could have avoided this, you know_ , she scolded herself angrily. _How many times now have you come so close of breaking free, only to go back?_

 _Ha,_ another part of her mind mocked her. _That makes you sound like an abused wife. As if he’d ever have the spine to do something so…interesting._

She poured another glass of pinot with an unsteady hand. The low-key anger was still bubbling softly inside her, and she needed something more to drown it into silence for a few hours. She took a long sip and chased after that last thought. _Not that I want an abusive husband. I’d kill him if he even tried raising a hand against me._

Maybe that was the part of the idea that spoke to her the most. If he tried to hurt her, she could justifiably kill him, and then he’d be gone for good. There’d be no getting scared or feeling guilty, no running back to make the same mistake over and over again. It’d be done. _Done!_

Who was she kidding, though. Jerry would _never_ hurt her, not like that. And she was never going to escape. You wouldn’t think it’d be so bad, being married to a kind man, a normal guy who would never hurt you. Plenty of women probably _dreamed_ of a nice safe life like this.

She downed the rest of her glass.

You wouldn’t think it’d be so fucking _boring_.

Or disheartening. Waking up one morning and realizing that the amount of respect you had for your husband could fit in a teaspoon. And not even fill it up. No excitement, no romance, no respect, no stimulation. It was like having an extra child, one that occasionally tried to have sex with her.

Beth sighed and settled back into the couch. The wine was finally working; the anger and frustration inside her felt smothered and distant, and the tension was fading from her shoulders. This wasn’t healthy, she knew it wasn’t healthy. Her kids were almost grown, okay, but they still relied on her for some things. And while it was unlikely, she could get called in for emergency horse surgery. But what else was she supposed to do? If she didn’t have a drink, she’d just be a bitch to everybody. Her whole family drove her crazy sometimes, but she loved them. They didn’t deserve to get sniped at just because she hated her boring life.

As usual, she felt a brief, hot flash of jealousy toward Summer and Morty. Dad always took _them_ on adventures. Where did he take _her_? To a bar. To the sad remnants of Froopyland. To a wedding. To fucking _marriage counselling_. She was just as capable as her children! Smarter, probably. So, what, just because she was in her thirties, had a lame husband, had a job to hold down because no one else would—because of that, she wasn’t entitled to adventures? For fuck’s sake, Dad had even taken _Jerry_ to some resort last year, Morty had told her about it!

It wasn’t _fair_! She knew it was a childish complaint. Fairness didn’t exist in the universe, it was just a stupid concept you fed children when you wanted them to follow society’s rules. But it was such a hard concept to shake, because it spoke to what you _wanted_ the universe to be. If the universe was fair, she wouldn’t need wine. She’d be skipping through the multiverse with someone handsome and brilliant, someone who respected her ruthlessness and intellect. Someone she could look up to, without feeling like she was being looked down at in return. Someone who made her feel…something. Anything, really. Something that wasn’t petulance or the numbness of wine.

_Thanks a lot, Dad! Thanks for making me brilliant and ruthless and capable of drinking a box of wine on my own! Thanks for the Sánchez liver!_ She thought of Beth C-500A, who had everything she thought she wanted—no Jerry, no unplanned children, a job as a _real_ surgeon ( _yeah thanks, Jerry! Just because it’s horses doesn’t mean it’s not_ real _surgery! Assholes, all of them!)._ Even _she_ was still alone, drinking boxes of wine. The only difference was that she did it in a house filled with exotic birds.

No matter what dimension, Beth Smith (neé Sánchez) was totally screwed. It was enough to drive a woman to drink! Oh, wait. She was.

But damn it, it _wasn’t_ fair! She was smart, she was capable, she could have helped with this dragon thing. But no! Dad whisked the kids off to wherever, and Jerry ran off to fucking _Florida_! On _her_ dime!

 _Sorry, horses, you’re…you’re on your own tonight_ , she thought unsteadily, glaring at her empty wineglass as if _it_ was somehow to blame for her life. _Tonight, Beth Smith’s getting riggidy-riggidy-wrecked, son!_

That thought brought a bitter smile to her lips, and she pushed herself back up off the couch. As she was headed to the kitchen for a refill, a portal opened up in the living room. _Already? Good, they’re back! I’m giving them an earful._

Wait, no, that wasn’t Dad. This portal was blue. What the fuck?! Even slightly drunk, her reflexes were quick. Beth reached deftly out to the potted plant on the sideboard, pulled aside a leaf to expose a particle ray pistol, and grabbed it in one smooth movement. _See, Dad? Capable. I know about all of your hidey-holes._

A man stepped through the portal. An older man in a burgundy turtleneck, a long tan duster (with elbow patches, really?), black slacks tucked into boots, cracked glasses, and greying hair. Distinguished. Handsome, actually. He had six fingers on each hand. Okay, potentially not human. She leveled the pistol at him. “Who are you?”

He actually _smiled_. She was standing there with a gun pointing right at his face, and he fucking _smiled_ at her. Beth lifted her chin ever so slightly in defiance of this and held the pistol steady.

“Good,” said the intruder. “I see I’m in the right place. You must be Bethany. I’m looking for your father, Richard Sánchez.”

“Why?” she demanded, giving nothing away.

“Oh, nothing nefarious, I assure you! I’m an old colleague, I wanted to thank him and bring him up to date. I haven’t seen him in some time. He _is_ alright, isn’t he? The Federation didn’t arrest him or anything?” His voice was mellifluous and soothing. Damn, he really was handsome!

“You want to… _thank_ him?” she asked suspiciously. That wasn’t normally the sort of thing people normally wanted to do to Dad. “Wait! How do you know my name?”

“Of course I do!” The stranger continued to smile politely, completely disregarding the gun in his face. “Sadly, it was all for naught, but everything worked out. I know your name, my dear, because he spoke about you quite a bit. He’s _very_ proud of you. And, to be frank, a bit frightened of you.”

Something in her head went twang when that man smiled and called her _my dear_ like that. _That’s the wine talking, Beth! Don’t listen!_ Right. “I’m asking again,” she said coldly. “Who are you?”

“Excuse me! Where _are_ my manners!” He sounded like a flustered professor—it was hard to imagine sparing him more than five seconds of interest. Then again, he sounded like that _despite_ the fact that she could obliterate him at any moment, so maybe there was a little more to him. “I’m Stanford Pines. Doctor Stanford Pines. You may call me Ford. Your father calls me Fordsy, among other things.” There and gone so fast she almost didn’t catch it was a facial expression that said he’d rather people _not_ call him Fordsy. “We fought together in the Great Federation War.” For the first time, a hint of anxiety crept into his voice. “They didn’t catch him, did they?”

“No,” she found herself assuring him. “Well— _yes_ , actually. But it was his plan. He’s fine.”

Ford nodded fractionally. “I see. I assume they took him to prison station Ɀ115a? So, total fiscal collapse? No more Federation?”

Beth relaxed and lowered the weapon. Whoever he was, this Stanford Pines was privy to her father’s plans. More than _she_ ever was, which stung, but he didn’t seem to be a threat. “It’s collapsing. The galaxy is tired of gromflomites.” She cocked her head to the side, studying him differently this time. “So you _worked_ with my dad? He’s never mentioned you.”

“If I didn’t know him so well, I’d be hurt. As it is, I’m scarcely surprised. Richard doesn’t dwell on the past. No, he’s always moving forward, finding new challenges! May I ask where he is?”

Beth sighed, relaxing that little bit more, and sat down on the arm of the couch. “He and the kids are doing something with dragons! It’s not like he _asked_ if Morty could have a dragon! My husband, he ran off to Florida with a fucking _cat_! On _my_ money! Is it too much to ask to be a part of things?! I’m smart! I’m capable! But no! The fucking _kids_ get more respect than I do!”

Abruptly, she snapped her mouth shut on the rant. _Poor guy_ , she thought, _he’s just looking to reconnect, and he walks right into Hurricane Beth! I can be_ such _a bitch!_

Ford seemed unphased, though. “My dear,” he said, taking a step closer, “I don’t believe you understand. Richard Sánchez loves exactly two things in this multiverse. His wife and his daughter. He would do anything to keep them safe. That’s why we were at war.” He paused thoughtfully but continued before she had a chance to interject anything. “Why _he_ was at war, at any rate. I found it a means to an end. He is not, will not, _can_ not be taking you into danger. Trust me. I know him better than anyone but BirdPerson and Squanchy.”

There was a whole lot to unpack in that statement, but only one part of it mattered to Beth right then. “He…he loves me?”

“More than anything, my dear.” Maybe he’d noticed the slight catch in her voice, maybe he hadn’t. Either way, the way he said that made her feel better, somehow. “I appear to have come at a bad time. I apologize for infringing on your time. Er.” There was a flicker of uncertainty in his face, which he quickly masked. “I hesitate to presume on your hospitality, but may I stay? My portal won’t reopen for another…” He looked at his watch. “Twenty-three hours and forty-seven minutes. I’m from a dimension that lies well off the beaten path, you see. Forty-six apostrophe backslash.”

“Uh.” What was she supposed to say to that? “Sure?”

He beamed at her as though that was a wonderfully eloquent answer. “Thank you! Since the rest of your family is out, perhaps I could take you to dinner? To show my gratitude.”

_Did he just ask me on a date?_ No, of course not. He was a friend of Dad’s, and painfully formal. She almost wanted to belch or throw up in front of him, just to see the reaction. How had he and Dad _ever_ worked together? No, not a date. Just free food at what would undoubtedly be a nice restaurant, accompanied by a handsome man from another dimension.

“Yeah, alright. Let me get my coat.”

_So that’s Bethany,_ thought Ford. _Adept with a particle ray pistol, but not particularly bloodthirsty._ She hadn’t shot him on sight, at any rate. Clearly, she’d grown from the child who wanted a sentient switchblade and mind control fashion accessories. Quite attractive as well, even in what Mabel would have referred to as “mom jeans.”

_Stanford, we’ve been over this. Punching holes through reality_ doesn’t _get girls to notice you._ Besides, she was the daughter of a long-time colleague, and married besides. He could hear a familiar mocking voice in his head, clear as if Richard were actually there beside him. “Fordsy, Beth could _use_ a good fucking! She’s _my_ daughter, the girl has appetites! The ring doesn’t block the hole! Married, jeez, what a buzzkill.”

A slight movement in the hallway caught his eye, and he jolted guiltily away from his thoughts. _Ah, she’s returning!_

He blinked. _Oh, my! She…she certainly cleans up nice._

*

She got more than her coat, in the end. First, she ran upstairs to use the bathroom. In theory, sure, alcohol dehydrated you. In practice, half a box of pinot noir made her pee like a racehorse. Her head was clearer now than it had been; the shock of an intruder had done some of that, and being forced to have a coherent conversation with him had done the rest. She looked in the bathroom mirror. She’d looked worse. She’d also looked much better.

_Even if it’s not a date, he’s good looking. Do you really want to go to dinner with him looking like that?_ She brushed her blonde hair and toyed with the idea of pulling it back. Half-back, maybe. Experimentally, she took a few locks from the sides of her face, twisting them up and fastening them behind her head with a small clip that was probably Summer’s. She checked the drawers, found some eyeliner and lipstick that weren’t too over the top, and examined her reflection again. _Not bad, Sánchez,_ she thought, blowing a kiss at the mirror. ( _Smith_ , protested a small, whiny part of her brain that sounded a lot like Jerry. She told it to fuck off.)

Her clothes could probably use an upgrade, too. She’d spilled wine on her pants. Quickly, she headed out into her bedroom, stripping down to her underwear and examining the contents of her closet. Nothing too dressy. Clean khakis, black flats, no you know what, that gauzy green dress looked about right. How often did she really have an excuse to wear it, after all?

Satisfied, she went back down to the living room.

Ford was still there, seated on the couch, looking very out of place. He was drumming his fingers on his knees, and Beth’s attention went once again to the extra digits. They were…interesting. Maybe it was just the remaining wine talking, but she could think of a lot of uses for them. Not that he’d ever go along with any of them, not Mr. Prim and Proper here. She cleared her throat, and he looked up and noticed her standing in the hallway.

“I thought you were going to get your coat,” he remarked. His voice remained polite, but there was a hint of something more.

Damn it, she’d forgotten about her coat! Oh well, not as though it was really cold outside. “Decided I didn’t need it,” she answered breezily.

“Well then.” A very slight smile, different from the polite one from before, touched his lips. “Shall we?” He offered his arm to her. Because of _course_ a man like this would offer her his arm.

It was tempting to slip her hand through the crook of his arm. On the other hand, it was far more tempting to see what he’d do if she _didn’t_. “Yeah, this way,” she told him, brushing right against his arm on the way to the front door. She grabbed her car keys off the hook without breaking her stride, but once she’d passed through the door she held it open, waiting for him to catch up. That meant he stood right next to her while she closed it behind them. Shorter than Dad, but taller than Jerry. If she’d worn heels instead of flats, they’d be eye to eye right now.

Crap, her glance must have been a little too assessing; he looked away just as she was about to meet his eyes. That made sense, though; he’d told her _Dad_ was a little scared of her. That thought filled her with warmth and pride. Anyway, if he’d heard that from her dad, it stood to reason that _he’d_ be a little scared of her, too. Good. Everyone should be scared of her. She was a capable, intelligent, badass bitch. She was Rick Sánchez’ daughter.

With a little extra spring in her step, Beth led the way to her red Honda.

She noticed the way Ford hesitated when she got into the driver’s seat. What, had he expected her to just hand over her keys?

“Er, Bethany?” He cleared his throat, apparently embarrassed. “Are you alright to drive?”

So he’d spotted the empty wineglass on the coffee table, so what. She was fine. And this was her car. And why did he keep calling her _Bethany_? She narrowed her eyes and stared him down.

He started to say one thing, then changed his mind and went the other direction. “What am I thinking? Forgive me. You’re a Sánchez! Of _course_ you’re driving.” He climbed into the passenger seat. Satisfied, Beth started the engine.

She’d already decided that he was taking her to the new steakhouse that had opened up downtown. It looked really nice in the ads she’d seen, and red meat was sounding really good right now. A good filet, on the bloody side, maybe with some mushrooms…

“So,” she said after Ford had proved he knew how to buckle a seatbelt, “you’re, uh…” Polite conversation, polite conversation, how did you _do_ that? “You said you’re a doctor?”

Ford chuckled softly. It was a nice sound. “An academic, my dear. I collect PhDs the way some people collect…” He faltered, clearly at a loss as to what normal people in her dimension might collect.

As if _she_ was supposed to know what normal people collected? Lately the only thing she seemed stocked up on was disappointments. When she was a kid she’d collected various types of weaponry and spy gear Dad brought her from other dimensions. “Baseball cards?” she offered weakly after an awkward pause.

“Yes, exactly!” Ford smiled warmly at her.

Oh, good grief, one of those life-long student types. That explained the turtleneck. “How many do you have?”

“Twelve,” he answered, puffing up slightly with pride. “Granted, some of them are honorary degrees, but that’s still—”

“Very impressive, yes,” Beth agreed before he could toot his own horn anymore. “What are they in?”

He started ticking them off on his fingers—conveniently, he had just enough. “Molecular biology, evolutionary biology, physics, chemistry, systems theory, astrophysics, botany, mechanical engineering, electrical engineering, mathematics, semiotics, and classics.”

Beth snorted in laughter. She couldn’t help herself. It was impressive, but it was just so…so ridiculous! “And I thought my DVM was bad!”

“Oh, you’re a veterinary doctor?”

She wondered how long it had been since he’d _seen_ Dad. “I’m an equine surgeon,” she answered, bracing herself for the usual disdain and mockery.

“Fascinating,” Ford said instead. “What led you to horses?”

“Oh, well.” She laughed uncomfortably this time, caught off guard by what seemed to be genuine interest. “What little girl doesn’t want a pony, right?”

He looked at her in a way she wasn’t sure she liked. Even with her eyes on the road, she could feel the penetrating stare. “From everything I’ve heard, _this_ little girl.”

“Fine,” she snapped, taking a right turn a little faster than necessary. “I liked cutting things up, you’ve got me. I was either going to become a monster or a surgeon. I took the high road.”

He nodded, as if none of this remotely surprised or bothered him. “But why horses?” he repeated implacably.

“Why _not_ horses?” she retorted. “What about you, then? Why’d you choose to study everything under the fucking sun?”

“Because I wanted to understand all of it,” he said simply.

Well, you couldn’t argue with that.

He kept talking. “I also, rather stupidly, wanted to make my mark. I wanted the _world_ to know the name Stanford Pines.” He sighed.

Beth glanced at him before returning her eyes to the road. He looked so resigned. “How’d that turn out?” she asked.

“Badly,” Ford admitted baldly. “I nearly destroyed the world.”

Beth’s eyebrows went up. That was a fuck-up even bigger than one of Dad’s! No, he must be exaggerating. “I doubt that!” she told him confidently.

“My dear,” he said, sending that tiny thrill down her spine again with the words. “I know you’re Rick’s daughter and have therefore seen things that would make most people defecate themselves, but I don’t believe that you have any real idea of what is out there. There are things that have no more regard for humanity than you have for dust mites. They don’t see us, don’t care about us—those of them that even know we exist hold us in mild contempt.” He paused, letting out a slow breath, before continuing.

“Some of them find us amusing. This one in particular did. He had destroyed his own home, his own entire dimension, and he was looking for a new toy. He discovered us back when we were Australopithecines and spent millennia playing with our minds. I was the first person smart enough to do what he wanted.” Beth looked in time to see the self-disgust flash across his face. "And,” he added, “stupid enough to do it.”

Beth shuddered a little. Dad had said that Lovecraft was right. Hell, she’d come home from St. Equis one day and found Summer nursing a Cthulhu with a baby bottle. _That_ had been one fuck of an argument. Dad had finally put it down, and the suicide rate in town had tripled overnight. “Riiiiiight. So who or _what_ was this thing?”

“Do you have a dollar bill?” Ford asked in response.

“Of course,” she answered dismissively. “But I’m driving. I’m not going to fish around in my purse.”

Any of her family members would have taken that as an invitation to rummage through her purse themselves until they found it. “You’re correct,” said Ford, not even glancing at it. “Excuse me. I have a tendency to be needlessly dramatic.” She snorted at that (right, Mr. Unflappable here is too dramatic), but managed to make it sound like a light cough. “I’m speaking of the gentleman on the back.”

She thought about it. There _was_ no ‘gentleman’ on the back of the dollar bill. There was an eagle with an olive branch and arrows, and there was… “The eye in the pyramid? That spooky Masonic bullshit? You’re telling me that’s _real_?”

“As real as you or I, my dear,” he assured her serenely. “He wanted a way into our dimension, so I built a method of punching holes in space-time. A transdimensional portal, if you will.”

Beth nearly hit the brakes. _That’s_ Dad’s _deal!_ This goofy, formal, professorial dweeb was pulling scientific shit out of his ass at the level of her _father_? Wait. He _knew_ Dad. He must have stolen it! “When was this?” she asked, trying not to sound suspicious.

“I started in 1979,” he answered as if this were a perfectly pleasant conversation. “It was completed in 1982.”

_In ’79 I was four! I don’t think Dad was even fucking around with teleportation back then, was he? Let’s see…he built the Mark I just after my sixth birthday. That was ’81. So wait, this guy, this_ younger _guy beat Dad?_ Ford had just gone up miles in Beth’s estimation. She had another question. “You ever kill anyone?”

It was hard to tell over the soft rumble of the car, but she thought she heard a chuckle. “ _There’s_ the Bethany I was expecting!” The humor went out of his voice. “Sadly, yes. Well…define _anyone_.”

She shrugged. “You know. Anyone! Living, thinking beings. Anyone.” Was it that hard a question?

“By that definition, yes.” Ford cleared his throat. “Something on the order of half a quintillion anyones, actually.” He cast her a quick sideways glance as he hurried to explain. “There was a war on. Your father and I orchestrated the deaths of 117 quadrillion gromflomites in one afternoon.”

Beth worked very hard to keep her face impartial, but lower down her body was telling another story: she was getting wet. _Okay, he’s handsome. He’s brilliant at a level with Dad, which I didn’t even think was possible! He was part of Dad’s life—the gory parts. I really need to figure out a way to fuck this man in the twenty-three or so hours I’ve got left._

They’d made it to the restaurant. She focused on finding a parking space. Gromflomites. The image of Ford murdering them was hard to shake. _I’m getting surf and turf. I really want to eat some bugs right now!_ She turned off the car. _And these panties are getting left in the restaurant bathroom. They’re soaked anyhow._

Ford beat her to the door this time, holding it open as she breezed through. The place was crowded, but the smells were delicious. Ford was still courteously holding the door open for a family on their way, so she walked up to the hostess. “What’s the wait on a table for two?”

“Five to ten minutes,” she was told. “Can I take a name?”

“Smith,” Beth answered automatically, then wished she hadn’t. Yes, she was Beth Smith, but did she really want a reminder of _Jerry_ right now? _Have fun with your pussycat, honey. I found somebody I want to stroke mine._ Maybe she should have given Ford’s name instead, since he was offering to pay—but she was the one talking to the hostess, and anyhow, she’d forgotten what his last name _was_. She scanned back through her memory as she stepped away from the hostess station. Pines, that was it.

Dr. Stanford Pines caught up with her, having held the door for every possible person in the vicinity of the restaurant. “Five minute wait,” she informed him, and cocked her head toward the leather benches of the waiting area. There was only one other couple sitting there, so the wait really couldn’t be too bad.

He nodded in acceptance and smoothed his duster under him as he took a seat. _Does that coat ever come off?_ Of course it must. But like Dad with his lab coat, picturing him without it seemed wrong, somehow. Without bothering to smooth her skirt at all, she dropped onto the seat next to him.

Nobody said anything. Ford was avoiding her eyes, looking around the visible parts of the restaurant with interest. Beth was imagining him killing gromflomites again. They were both cognizant of the dragging silence but couldn’t think of the right way to break it. Their eyes met once, and Ford quickly looked away.

“Did you kill them yourself?” she blurted out, keeping her voice soft enough that they wouldn’t attract any strange glances. “Or did you just order it?”

“Ah.” He smiled bitterly. “I thought maybe that was why you’d gone so quiet. A bit of both, if we’re being honest.”

She nodded thoughtfully, digesting that information. “What weapons did you use?”

“Neutrino bombs and quantum destabilizers, mainly. It got messy, though. At one point, Squanchy tossed me a weapon and I started firing without even checking what it was. It turned out to be a simple particle ray, but it did the job.”

“Wow.” Her tone was hushed, very nearly awed.

Ford looked away again. “Ordinarily, I wouldn’t disclose that type of information. It’s not something I’m particularly proud of, you understand.”

“Why not? You guys were heroes.”

He shrugged uncomfortably. “I wasn’t really invested in the fight. When I started, I didn’t know the first thing about the Federation. I just wanted the weaponry your father promised me.”

“So you’re a _merc_?” He was the least likely looking mercenary she’d ever seen. It somehow made him even more desirable. She shifted closer along the bench, casually letting a hand fall on his knee.

He went very still, but he didn’t remove it. She could hear the forced calm in his voice when he started speaking again, and she smirked internally. “Put that way, I suppose I am. My sole focus was on eliminating Bill Cipher.”

Bill Cipher? Oh, his dollar bill guy must have had a name. She nodded encouragingly. _So he took out quadrillions of Federation soldiers without even caring about the cause? He gives less of a fuck than Dad! And yet…_

“So, did you?”

“Did I?” He blinked, nonplussed for all of half a second. “Oh, yes, eliminate Cipher. Not in the way I’d intended, but yes. That’s what I intended to fill your father in on. It turned out to all be for nothing, because I was pulled back to my own dimension before I was ever able to _use_ the damn weapon!”

A laugh burst out of Beth startling both of them. “Sorry,” she apologized, not really sorry at all. “It’s just….you swore.” She jabbed a finger into his side. “Guess you _are_ flesh and blood under there. I was starting to wonder.”

A faint flush came into Ford’s face, and he cleared his throat. “I’m…not entirely sure how to respond to that, Bethany.”

She laughed again, delighted. “You’re from another dimension. You have six fingers. You could be anything! No judgement.”

He went, if anything, even pinker. “Ah. You noticed that.”

“Well, _yeah_ ,” she scoffed. “I noticed it the minute you walked through the portal. Rick Sánchez’ daughter, remember?” She tapped the side of her head to indicate her thinking prowess.

“Of…of course.” He tugged at the front of his turtleneck. “Well, I can assure you, I am quite human. And I do swear, on occasion. Not as much as my brother, and not _nearly_ as much as your father, but I—”

“You have a brother?” _Is he as hot as you?_

“Yes. Stanley is…” He shook his head, unable to find an adequate way to explain his brother to her. “Yes,” he repeated instead.

Beth put her hand back on his knee. “Okay, so tell me, then. What’s your dimension like? Does everyone have six fingers?”

“No,” he said, looking away again. “Just me.”

The lightbulb went on in Beth’s brain. She reached out and seized his hand, interlocking her fingers with his. “Come on, don’t tell me you feel _weird_ about it! It’s hot!”

He stared at her, completely at a loss for words. She raised her eyebrows at him, debating the types of things she could do to convince him. “That’s…very kind of you,” he said stiffly.

_Kind_ , ha. Lots of people had used lots of words to describe Beth Smith over the years, and _kind_ was not among them. “Listen—”

“Smith, party of two?”

She let go of his hand and got to her feet. “That’s us.” Ford stood up as well, and they let the hostess lead them to a small square table with an elegant white tablecloth and leather-bound menus. Ford pulled her chair out for her before taking his own seat. The hostess chirped that their server would be right with them and disappeared to let them peruse the menus.

Beth scanned over the wine list. “Do you want to split a bottle of cabernet sauvignon?”

He leaned over the table, turning the list in her hand so that he could see it and running his index finger down the names and prices. “How about this one?”

Her lips parted in pleased surprise, but she shut them again and sat back in her chair. “You _do_ have earth money, right? I’m not going to get stuck footing the bill for this?”

Ford looked scandalized. “Certainly! Had your father been home, I would have extended this invitation to _him_ , and I’m aware of how seldom he has the necessary funds on hand.” He reached into the depths of his coat and produced a slim black wallet. He opened it long enough to let her see there were at least a few traditional green bills inside before tucking it back inside the duster.

She nodded in satisfaction and flicked her menu open. Yep, surf and turf, right there. That was easy. She flipped it shut again and watched Ford studiously examining his dinner options. Her gaze was drawn back to his hands this time, and the extra fingers. The nails were impeccably clean on all twelve. Long artists fingers. And he’d been so insecure about them, but so wonderfully blasé about inventing transdimensional portals.

That decided it. She was losing the panties. “Excuse me a minute,” she said, getting to her feet. “I need to duck into the ladies’ room. If the waiter turns up, that wine sounds great, and I want the surf and turf.”

The ladies’ room? Again? Was there something wrong with her kidneys? Stanford Pines considered.

 _Stanford, she just changed clothes. Why did she change clothes?_ He looked down at his six-fingered hand, the one she had taken. That was odd. Some of his thoughts took on the voice of his brother. _Sixer, she put her hand on your knee. She thinks you’re cute. You are, you know. You look like me, and nobody’s cuter than Stan Pines—but you’re close!_

And a memory, of Richard complaining during the cleanup after Blood Ridge. _“God damn it, this bullshit is taking too long! I’m going to be a grandfather when I get home, I know it! Fordsy, my daughter’s a horny bitch! When she was seven, I caught her using the back of an electric toothbrush on her button. Her Ken doll spent more time up her snatch than he did at Barbie’s dream house! She looks like her mother! The boys are going to be sniffing around like mad, and I’m not there to put the fear of Rick in them! Fuckin’ war!_

In the ladies’ room, Beth was in a stall, wiggling her way out of her panties. _Should I lose the bra, too? Fuck it, yes! I’m losing the bra! Beth Smith is getting some tonight! Poor Dr. Pines isn’t going to know what hit him!_ She did the topological trick that somehow always astounds men, pulling the bra off through the arm of her dress. She tucked her underwear into her purse, left the stall, and checked herself out in the mirror. _That is one hot mama!_ She grinned. You could _just_ make out her nipples through the gauzy green dress. Perfect. _This is war!_ Just the thought sent twinges through her body. She strode out of the ladies’ room and returned to the table.

He actually _stood up_ and waited for her to sit down. Beth wasn’t used to manners. _It’s like I’m in some kind of black and white period piece, some boring old lady movie._ “So, where were we?” She sat back in her chair, adjusting her posture just slightly to make her chest more noticeable, and smiled at him.

“You were ascertaining that I had the wherewithal to pay,” Ford replied with a crooked smile.

The sommelier bustled up. “Wine?” he asked.

“Yes, please,” Ford nodded. He reached over the table, touching her hand. “May I?”

 _Wow, black and white period piece boring old lady movies are kind of hot! Who knew?_ She nodded.

“I was thinking the Argentinian Malbec, but the lady is having lobster. Perhaps the ’05 Mclaren Vale Shiraz?”

“An excellent choice, sir. The Malbec would be a bit robust, but the fruity overtones of the Shiraz should pair nicely with seafood. The bottle?”

“Please.”

The sommelier retreated, leaving them alone together. Ford was still touching Beth’s hand, and slipped his fingers around until he was holding it. “We were discussing hands,” he said, admiring the one in his. “You have beautiful hands. A surgeon’s hands.”

It was Beth’s turn to blush. “Please. It’s not like I’m a _real_ doctor.”

“On the contrary, my dear! Animals are prone to most of the ills of humankind, as well as a whole host of problems all their own. Your specialty, equines, are a remarkable mix of robust and fragile. Powerful and graceful. The logistics of running at speed on a single set of phalanges is staggering. One toe! They carry all that weight on one toe. Astonishing, really. Not a real doctor! I’d like to see a ‘real’ doctor deal with a patient six to fourteen times his mass. Don’t denigrate yourself, my dear.”

_Crap, someone who gets it! And the way he keeps calling me ‘my dear.’ It’s like when Dad calls me sweetie, except I don’t want to fuck Dad….much,_ she added, being honest with herself.

“Veterinary medicine is a noble calling,” he went on, unable to hear her thoughts. “It’s something that my grand-niece is interested in. You’d like her. Everyone does. No, my dear, don’t let fools sell you short. You do important, difficult work.”

Fools. _It’s like he_ knows _Jerry._ “Thank you,” she managed, blush still in evidence. “I’m not used to someone being impressed. Or understanding the problems of working with horses.”

“Why ever not?” He blinked, genuinely confused. He was still holding her hand gently in his palm. “It’s impressive. Horses are large, temperamental beasts. Prone to arthritis and other joint problems. That single phalange.” He shook his head slightly, giving her another crooked smile. “But enough about work. Tell me about Bethany Sánchez. I’m afraid that while you were in the restroom, I recalled some embarrassing stories your father told me.” His eyes flashed briefly down to her breasts.

_Good, it’s working!_ “Oh, lord!” She laughed. “ _What_ did he tell you? It’s not true! Er, probably not true.” Oh, who was she kidding? “Alright, fine, it’s all true!”

He laughed, too. It was a nice sound. “You don’t even know what he told me!”

Under the table, she brushed her foot up against his calf. “I can already tell you wouldn’t repeat it. You’re a gentleman. Dad’s not.” _Really_ not.

“A gentleman?” Ford chuckled again. “You may not believe it, Bethany, but very few people in my life have used that term to describe me.”

Damn, he hadn’t reacted to the foot. Probably thought it was an accident. She kicked off her shoe, slid down her seat a little, and ran her toe very deliberately from his ankle to his knee. “I guess I can believe it,” she admitted, absolutely nothing in her voice or face betraying what her foot was up to. “I mean, I don’t know what sort of people you’ve spent your life hanging around with—aside from Dad and his friends, who wouldn’t think of using the word.” No, they’d use words like _dork_ or _insufferable nerd_ or _uptight buzzkill_ instead.

Ford did not have an answer to that, because he was very distracted by what was happening beneath the table. Jeez, you’d have thought she’d reached out and grabbed his dick, the way he froze up. “Bethany…”

Amusement crept its way into the corners of her face. She could feel it twisting her lips upward. “You don’t need to be so formal, you know. We’re practically family. ‘Beth’ works just fine.” _It’s a lot easier to moan single-syllable words in the throes of passion._ Not that she’d know what the throes of passion were like, she’d been having boring vanilla mechanical sex with _Jerry_ for most of her life, but the toys in her bedside drawer were a decent substitute for real excitement.

“Beth,” he repeated doubtfully.

She gave him an encouraging smile. Good lord, the way he acted you’d think he’d never been laid in his life! But she’d seen his eyes move over her breasts again, and he hadn’t pulled his leg back, either. “Or do you want me to start calling you Dr. Pines?” she suggested coyly.

That won her another of those cute crooked smiles. “No. No, of course not! Ford is perfectly sufficient.”

_Sufficient?_ She dragged her toe up and down his calf again. “Not Fordsy?”

He blanched, then realized she was teasing him and allowed himself a small smile. “I’d rather you didn’t.”

She snorted in amusement.

The waiter arrived to take their orders. Beth reluctantly straightened up, tucking her feet under her chair, and ordered as planned. That comes with a salad, would the lady care to try the house dressing? No, the lady would care for raspberry vinaigrette, thank you. Ford asked about soups, chose the country vegetable medley, and ordered the Filet Oscar. Great, now she was going to think about how his pee smelled for the rest of the meal. Did asparagus affect the smell of any _other_ liquids? Hm…

Their wine arrived while they were still ordering. She passed on smelling the cork. _Just get some in my glass already!_ Thankfully, they did. She picked up her glass, twisting it by the stem, and took a small sip. Alright, that might just be worth the price tag. She took another sip, closing her eyes. _Thanks, Fordsy._

He looked at her, earnestly. “Is there such a thing as city vegetables?” he asked, completely, straight-faced.

“Did you just tell a _joke_? That was _horrible_!” She tittered anyway. City vegetables!

“I’m an uncle, my dear,” he smiled, pleased that she’d laughed. “It’s my job to tell horrible jokes.”

“You dodged my question, you know,” she told him once the waiter had gone.

“I did?”

She nodded and enjoyed another sip of wine. “What kind of people you’ve spent your life hanging around, besides my dad.” She paused, recalling something else. “You never told me what your dimension is like, either.”

“I believe I asked you to tell me about yourself, also. You deflected the subject.”

She _had_ , hadn’t she. She hadn’t done it intentionally. “Alright, fine, but you’re up next.” She nudged his leg again, but left it at that so she could think. It was hard to know what to say about her life if she didn’t know what Dad had actually told him. “Okay, this is going to sound like I’m deflecting again, but you’d better start. I’m sure your life is way more interesting than mine anyway.”

Ford was taking a sip from his own glass. He set it down, adjusted his glasses, and steepled his fingers thoughtfully. “I wouldn’t count on it, with your father! But I suppose my life _has_ been more…unconventional…than most.” She raised her eyebrows silently, waiting for him to continue. He took another sip of wine first. “I mentioned the chaos demon earlier. I did catch on to what he was up to, before the end. I tried to shut the whole thing down. I…wasn’t quite right at the time, I suppose. I became very paranoid, tried to dispose of all my research. I called in my brother, despite a falling out we’d had years previous. I thought I could count on him to help. Instead, we had a quarrel. Well, alright—a _fight_. In the process, my machine was turned back on and… Surely you don’t really want to hear all this?”

“Yes!” she nearly groaned, frustrated by this intrusion of self-doubt. “Keep going!”

He lifted his shoulders slightly and dropped them, picking up where he’d left off. “To make a long story short, without intending to, I went through the portal myself. I spent the following decades moving between dimensions. Some I stayed in for only a few hours, while in others I spent years. I could fill a book with all the different places I’ve visited, but I don’t want to bore you.”

Beth narrowed her eyes. “Why the hell would you think that was _boring_? Especially to _me_?”

“I…well…uh.” He tugged at his turtleneck again. “I suppose I’m not used to people finding my stories…well, _interesting_. Fiddleford, perhaps. Dipper, certainly. But that’s—”

She had no idea who those people were, but she thought she saw the shape of the argument here. “By _people_ …do you mean _women_?”

“What? No, I meant…er, strangers, I suppose. But…” He looked profoundly uncomfortable. “Now that you mention it, yes. Perhaps.”

Beth smirked. This struck her, maybe obscurely, as a compliment. “Not used to talking to smart women?”

“Quite frankly, Betha…Beth, I’m not very practiced at talking with _any_ women.”

She sighed. “Come on, Ford, that was an _easy_ one. All you had to say was ‘no, I’ve never met a woman as intelligent and beautiful as you.’”

“You wanted me to say that?”

“Yeah.” Beth swirled the remaining wine in her glass. “No one ever tries to have intelligent conversations with me. I _told_ you my life is boring.”

Finally, he realized he’d made a misstep. “I’m terribly sorry. I _have_ never met a woman as intelligent—” He swallowed noticeably. “And, er, as beautiful—as you.” His eyes _definitely_ went to her breasts that time, though they also came back up to linger on her face. “You have lovely eyes,” he said softly, almost dreamily. “Lips of a goddess. And your hair…” He shook his head, snapping out of his little trance just as it was starting to get good. “Forgive me. I meant no insult to your intellect whatsoever. Quite the contrary, in fact.”

“Good.” Beth smiled, and leaned over the table to give him a better view. “Then why don’t you pick the weirdest, most bizarre, complicated thing you’ve ever done. And explain it to me.”

*

Dinner was certainly a success, from Beth’s point of view. At first, Ford had taken her at her word, and started explaining a particularly complicated piece of machinery he’d created. Mentally, she could keep up with the topic, and a few techniques he described did strike her as creative and interesting. But mechanics really weren’t her thing. She’d managed to turn him onto explaining the biology of a polymorph he’d found—in his _own_ dimension, of all things, which sounded like hers in most respects—and _that_ was fascinating. He talked her through all the experiments he’d run and results he’d gotten, and the excitement when the creature had broken free. He didn’t speak down to her or gloss over the details, and it was absolutely hands-down wonderful.

It was so great, she even forgot to flirt.

The food had arrived three-quarters of the way through his story, and it was excellent. She left her lobster till last, because she didn’t want to be distracted while she was eating it. She cracked open the shell, peeled it back, cut a piece, and dipped it in butter. “It’s _your_ fault I’m having this, you know. All the talk of gromflomites. Earth was part of the Galactic Federation for a while, you know. Until Dad took care of them.” She ate the piece of lobster. “I don’t know why, but I like it better cold.”

“You’d have thrived in the resistance, then. We ate a lot of cold gromflomite.”

“Really, you _ate_ them?” A pulse of excitement went through her at the thought. “Is it any good?” She continued with the lobster, pretending briefly that it was one of the conquerors. It improved the flavor. _Eating_ the damn insect overlords had never occurred to her. Of course, Jerry had thought they were the best thing since sliced bread. Idiot.

“It’s not bad,” Ford admitted. “Somewhere between lobster and crab. Alas, we didn’t have drawn butter. That would have improved things. Have you considered that crustaceans may have become popular simply as a delivery system for butter? Rather like popcorn, I suppose.”

Beth was taken by the strange digressions the man’s mind went on. “No, I can’t say I’ve ever considered it. I like the way your mind works. Adopting an alien shapeshifter, thinking about butter. What else is going on in there?”

“Curiosity about the lovely woman I’m sitting opposite. You still haven’t told me about yourself.”

“What’s to tell?” Her current bite of butter-vehicle abruptly lost some of its flavor. “I’m a boring suburban housewife. My family’s interesting. I’m not. I have a dull job—which I feel better about now, thank you—and two children I adore and who I frequently want to murder in their sleep, and an unemployed and probably unemployable husband. He loves me, he’s devoted, he’s loved me since high school. Dad’s put him through hell and he sticks around. He’s my rock. The one thing I can count on. My anchor.”

She stabbed viciously at another piece of her meal. “An anchor that keeps dragging me down! He’s _so_ fucking boring, Ford, you have no idea! I don’t respect him, don’t love him, don’t actually even care for him. If you refined every tedious, stupid, racist, sexist, self-satisfied, selfish, simple, stupid thing that makes you crazy and put it in a bottle, its name would be Jerry Smith!”

Unable to eat right now over the revulsion rising in her throat, she set her fork down with a clank. “Damn it, the only reason I’m with him at all is that I’m afraid I might be a clone, and he reassures me.” She stopped abruptly as an idea came to her. “Hey, you’re a genius! _Am_ I a clone? Is there a way to tell?”

Ford looked stricken. “I’m afraid not, my dear. I’m from a family prone to twins. There is no difference between a clone and an identical twin. No way to tell. However, if you _are_ a clone, you’re still your own person. You’re genetically identical, but you have your own thoughts, your own experiences, your own desires and dislikes. Your own you.”

“That’s what _I_ said! ‘I’m related to her, but I don’t relate to her!’ Except I don’t know if there _is_ a her or if I _am_ her. Gaah! Why is life with Dad so _hard_?”

Ford reached across the table and set his hand on top of hers. “Richard does tend to complicate things. But you’re _his_ rock, _his_ anchor. There’s no scientific way to tell, but if he’s here, then you’re you.”

Beth forgot to breathe for a split second. She’d never thought of it like that, but he made it sound so _obvious_. “You mean that?!”

“Certainly.” His fingers curled around hers, warm and reassuring. “And I begin to see why he’s so devoted. You’re very much like him, but less, hm…focused. Richard regards the Multiverse as a profit/loss statement. I very much wish I’d met your mother, but I’m quite pleased to have made your acquaintance.”

“I like you too, Ford.” The shoe came off and her foot snaked up his leg again. “I squanch my family, but a woman has needs.” The last bite of lobster went down easily now, and tasting absolutely delicious.

Ford laughed aloud. “You _really_ don’t have the hang of that, do you? Unless you’re even stranger than I took you for. If your entire family is unable to satisfy your needs, I’m not sure what I can do.”

She snorted in amusement. “Oh, fuck you!” She let that statement lie for a bare second, locking eyes with him, and then said “I want to, by the way. I think we’ll skip dessert. Do you do anything besides missionary?”

His cheeks took on a hint of color. “I scarcely do anything at all. However.” He cleared his throat. “I’m a scientist, I’m willing to experiment.” His thumb was now making gentle circles on the back of her hand, and did he _know_ how intoxicating that was? “I hesitate to break social conventions and engage in adultery…” Suddenly he smiled, and it wasn’t polite or crooked or awkward at all, but mischievous and rather devastating. “But I _am_ an interdimensionally known criminal and terrorist. I’m very happy I decided to visit my old friend Richard, even though I missed him entirely.” He raised a hand at a passing server, indicating he wanted the check. “This is shaping up to be a good evening. Stanley won’t believe it.”

Beth blinked. “Who the fuck is Stanley?”

“My brother. My twin brother.”

“You’re kidding! You’re _both_ named Stan?”

“You have a son named Mortimer. I wouldn’t throw stones.”

Beth laughed. “That’s Jerry’s fault! I named Summer. If it were up to me, I’d have named him, I don’t know, Steve, or something!”

“No, no! You wouldn’t like Steve. He eats cars.”

That made her laugh again. She was nearly giddy with excitement now. She didn’t have the first idea who Steve was—the way Ford’s mind seemed to flow, it could be absolutely anything. But that was what made him so fun. “I want to hear all about Steve,” she told him, leaning back and dragging her toe all the way up to his thigh. “But first, I want to show you what I have on under this dress.”

“Oh?” He did a poor job of masking his interest. “What’s that?”

“Nothing,” she told him, wetting her lips deliberately. “Not a god-damned, fucking thing.”

Stanford Pines had seen a lot of things in his life. He’d encountered ghosts, gnomes, walking bonfires, and demons. He’d been to dimensions where time was nonlinear, where there was no third dimension, where dolphins were the predominant species on Earth. He had never had a human woman so blatantly express a desire to sleep with him.

_Trust me, Sixer, sleep’s got nothing to do with it._

_Fuck’s sake, Fordsy, could you get any lamer? You_ do _like girls, right?_

No one had brought them their check yet. Ford pulled two hundred-dollar bills out of his wallet, set them neatly on the table with a clean spoon holding them in place, and stood up. “Shall we?” He offered Beth his arm.

She was still sliding her foot back into her shoe. He took a second to examine the lines of her calf and ankle. They were beautiful. His mind travelled upward, under her dress. _Not a god-damned, fucking thing._

They made it as far as the car before he had to find out for himself.

He climbed into the passenger’s seat, feeling as though he’d come down with some sort of alien virus that made all his clothes suddenly chafe. Bethany—Beth, Beth—reached out one of those lovely, delicate hands to turn on the vehicle, and he reached out and caught it in his own. He turned in his seat, moving his fingers slowly up over her bare arm. He felt her shiver, noted the way her breathing changed. He slid his hand further—not up this time, but sideways, to cup her right breast. It was exceedingly pleasant. Judging from the way her nipple hardened through the gauzy fabric, she thought so too. Experimentally, he squeezed, and she let out a little sound that made his pants even more constrictive.

He leaned over, laying his other palm along her cheek, turning her face toward him. The naked desire in her eyes would have shattered the resolve of any man, and he hadn’t had much resolve to start with. He kissed her.

It was all Beth could do not to climb into the passenger seat and straddle him. _One hand on my face, the other on my boob, and he smells incredible! This is how all men should be legally required to smell._ She didn’t realize it, but the smell was machine oil and some sort of acid, very similar to her father. There was a distinctive woodsy accent to it, though. His lips were surprisingly soft, and he tasted like red wine and rare steak. The kiss itself was clumsy and inexperienced, but the thing he was doing with his thumb and index finger more than made up for it. Her own hands were still free, so she used one of them to guide his under the fabric of her dress and onto bare skin. He didn’t stop kissing her.

Fuck it. In one graceful movement, she twisted out from behind the steering wheel and around to face him. She knelt on his seat, one knee on either side of his thighs, and in a nice little turnaround she put both her palms on _his_ cheeks as she kissed him.

Ford was excellent at following her lead. In a very short span of time, the way he moved his tongue against hers became both more elegant and more passionate. Oh, this was nice. This was _so_ nice. His hands settled first on her waist, but they slid down to her ass when she gently bit into his lower lip. A moment later, they moved up under the dress. Good. Beth felt a momentary flash of victory—that she’d gotten him to do it, that he’d feel how horny she was, that she was certainly going to fuck him when they got home—and then the pleasure of having his fingers where they were became the only thing that mattered.

He could _smell_ the pheromones coming off of her. He’d never been with a human woman like this, true, but it was as though she were laying out a trail of breadcrumbs for him to follow. Every time he took a step, the next one became crystal clear. Right now the way he was stroking his fingers seemed to be working very well. Unfortunately, the next step was going to require them to drive the car back to Beth’s house. If only the teleporter were remotely controllable, he could have had them back to her bedroom in seconds. It would have been an incredibly irresponsible use of the technology. Right now, he wouldn’t have cared in the least.

Beth was thinking along the same lines. “Damn it,” she muttered, breaking off a wonderfully intense kiss. “This car just isn’t big enough to do things right.”

“Right?” Ford questioned her, slightly breathless. “Or the way you want?”

She nipped his lip again, playfully. “The way I want _is_ the right way.”

“Of course it is, my dear.” One of his hands had found its way back to her breast. It was very difficult to drag herself away. But she _really_ wanted to get home. Reluctantly, she retreated back to the driver’s seat and turned the car on. She barely said a word on the way home, focusing on getting them there as quickly as humanly possible. They barreled through several yellow lights, narrowly avoided hitting a bicyclist, and completely disregarded the posted speed limits. You did _not_ stop Beth Smith getting what she wanted.

There. Home. She shut off the car, they looked at each other, and practically raced to the front door. She unlocked it and threw it open. He took her in his arms and kissed her right there on the walk. Fine. Fuck the neighbors. Fuck Gene and Mr. Benson and all of them. They’d seen the house locked up behind blast shields, Gene had seen a forty-foot-tall Summer burst out of the garage and turn inside-out, they’d seen the President’s black helicopters land in the yard, yesterday there had been a fucking _dragon_ in the front yard, for Christ’s sake! They could see Beth Smith happy for once.

They staggered through the door, still locked in an embrace. Ford kicked it shut behind them. His right hand lifted up the back of her skirt and caressed her left cheek. They went straight on into the living room. She was standing in front of the sliding glass doors with her ass hanging out—thank God the lights were off. Or did she want to give the neighbors a show? No, that was a bit much.

“Wait,” she said, pulling back. “I want to see what I’m doing. I want _you_ to see what you’re doing. I _don’t_ want the neighbors to see what we’re doing.”

“Certainly,” he agreed. “We want to do things the right way.” Another one of those truly devastating smiles came over his face. “The Beth way.”

“You’re teasing me!” she exclaimed in delight, closing the blinds. “No one’s done that in years! Not playfully!” She flicked the light switch and stepped neatly back into his arms. “Now, let’s get you out of that coat. It suits you, it really does, but I want to see you without it!” She slipped her hands under the shoulders of the duster, sliding it off and letting it fall to the floor. Ford stopped to pick it up and fold it neatly, placing it on Jerry’s chair.

He turned back, and she realized he was larger than she’d thought: broad shouldered, muscular, tall. _He could break Dad in half!_ Without the elbow patches he looked less like a professor and more like a professional wrestler or heavyweight boxer. He was wearing a Sam Browne belt over the turtleneck, with a _pistol_ holstered on his right hip! It didn’t look like one of Dad’s. “You took me out to a restaurant while you were packing heat?”

He glanced down at the weapon in mild surprise. “This? I forget I have it on, generally. But it’s never a good plan to go dimension hopping unarmed.”

“Right. Take it off, terrorist.” She liked the sound of that. _I’m about to fuck an interdimensional terrorist!_ “You won’t need it tonight. What _is_ it?”

He started the complicated sequence of unbuckling to remove the belt. For Beth, it was a little like watching a striptease. “It’s a quantum destabilizer. My own design. Your father, BirdPerson, and Squanchy were invaluable in assisting me…ahem.” He looked briefly, ever so slightly, guilty. “…procure the necessary parts.” The belt and pistol joined the duster on Jerry’s chair.

“Stealing them, you mean,” she smiled. “So, what happens when you destabilize quantums?”

“Quanta, my dear. It eliminates the strong force, briefly. So—”

“So, whatever you point it at ceases to exist, accompanied by a puff of…steam?” Beth interrupted.

“ _Very_ good, Beth!” He seemed genuinely delighted. “So few people make the jump from hydrogen to water vapor! You are _easily_ the smartest woman I’ve ever met! Even the Oracle needed several explanations.”

“You’re going to tell me about the Oracle,” she told him. “And Steve. But I need your hands on me _now_!” She flung her arms around his neck, and his hands resumed their exploration her backside. They kissed, passionately. _He’s getting better at this,_ she thought. One hand worked down her thigh while the other came up to the small of her back, leaving her bare-assed again. _The blinds are shut now, who cares!_

Her hands worked down his broad back, one slipping inside his pants to grope his ass. She _had_ to get him naked! She pushed him onto the couch and impulsively pulled the dress off over her head. “What do you think?” she asked, giving a nude pirouette. He took his time answering, and she bit her lip. She was a thirty-something mother of two, a Seattle housewife, and he wandered the Multiverse. Okay, she had a great rack, even Summer admitted that, but still…

Ford sat, rapt. He stared. A minute went by, maybe two. Beth felt tears pricking the backs of her eyes. _This was a mistake. He thinks I’m hideous._

And then, finally, he spoke. “Words…words fail me. Is there such a thing as too much beauty? I…I would like to sketch you, but I can’t possibly do you justice. It would take a Master, a Caravaggio or Bernini. But I’d like to try.”

The stinging in her eyes stopped abruptly. She remembered to breathe. When had she stopped breathing? The absurdity of the situation hit her and she laughed aloud. “Draw me like one of your French girls, Jack.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Ford’s brow creased.

He hadn’t _seen_ it. And she’d thought he couldn’t get any more attractive! “It’s a line from my husband’s favorite movie, _Titanic_. The hoity-toity rich heroine wants the poor hero to draw her naked. It’s fantastically stupid.”

“They made a movie about the _Titanic_?” He was momentarily distracted from the lines of her body as he tried to puzzle this out. “Where’s the drama? Guess what, the ship sinks! What’s the point?”

“I get it and you get, but thousands of romantic idiots don’t! It’s certainly a better love story than _Twilight,_ though.” Hopefully he wouldn’t know what that was, either. She settled next to him on the couch and kissed his ear. “You can sketch me if you want, but isn’t there anything you’d rather be doing?”

“Now that you mention it, yes!” His left hand grasped the underside of her right breast and his lips went to her left nipple. While doing that, he managed to kick his boots off. Oh, _wow_! There was a spot on the underside of her breast that she hadn’t even known existed, and touching it was sending tingles all through her body! What he was doing with his mouth was pretty good, too. _Oh teeth, yes, teeth! Bite my boob, you naughty boy! Shitdamnfuck!_ Her hips started rocking, she was going to come without even getting his pants off!

Moans and gasps escaped her lips. Where had the proper professor learned to work a woman’s tits like this? She leaned back against the arm of the couch, her impromptu hairstyle coming undone. Summer’s hair clip joined a dollar and thirty-two cents, several peanuts, and the remote to one of Morty’s gaming systems in the recesses of the couch. She caught her breath but could feel another wave coming on. Ford had switched when she shifted position. Now her right nipple was being bitten and the bottom of her left breast was getting the treatment with his fingers. His other hand slid down her belly, over her mons, and several fingers were touching her lips. She spread her legs, her vulva spread, and just like that two fingers were inside of her, his thumb stroking her clit. _Ooooh, here it comes, a multiple!_

Beth’s fingers grasped at the cushion under her, digging in, and she shouted in pleasure as several orgasms tore through her, one on top of the other. _Jesus, for not knowing what he’s doing, he really knows what he’s doing! I haven’t felt this satisfied in years! Maybe ever!_ She lay back, flushed, thighs trembling, covered in a sheen of sweat. He lifted his face from her breast, and she looked directly into his eyes. He had that smile again, the mischievous and devastating one. “Wow,” was all she said.

“I did things the right way?” There was a twinkle in his eyes.

“Definitely the Beth way,” she agreed breathlessly. “I thought you said you didn’t have much experience! I didn’t know boobs could do that! _Wow_.”

“I don’t have much experience with _human_ women,” he explained. “I adapted some things I learned on Krutabulon. They have three breasts, very sensitive, and the most beautiful skulls. They also have two vaginas, very tricky. You have to learn to work with your hands. R&R on Krutabulon was very educational.”

“Jerry took up with a Krutabulon warrior priestess once. Why doesn’t _he_ know any of this?”

“A warrior priestess? They wouldn’t teach this, it makes them too vulnerable. They’re all about the hunt.”

Beth shook her head. “True. Summer described her as both _cool_ and _intimidating._ Neither of the kids had any clue how Jerry managed to get in her pants.”

“Novelty, undoubtedly.” He was kissing her stomach now, slow tantalizing brushes of his lips between her hips and her ribs. “I’m sure that’s the only reason they let _me_ anywhere near them initially.”

“Initially.” She brought her hand up to the back of his head, running her fingers through greying hair. “I can see why they let you stay.”

“Mm,” he agreed modestly, slipping one hand under the curve of her ass and planting his lips directly between her breasts. Beth ran her fingers from the back of his skull to his jaw, directing him further up. She sat up as she did so, bringing their mouths back together. His legs were between hers, and despite him still being fully clothed she pressed herself against him, wrapping her legs around his back. In a matter of seconds they were horizontal, with him on top of her. She could feel his erection now, pressing against her through his pants. Her hips rocked back and forth and she kissed him harder, a fresh wave of intense desire sweeping through her. _I need his pants off. Now._

“Oh, my dear,” Ford nearly groaned as slide her hand down the back of his slacks again. She pushed harder against him in response, and he wanted more than anything to get his clothes out of the way and push himself inside her. She wanted him to, that much was obvious. He didn’t need a trail of breadcrumbs anymore, his instincts were doing just fine on their own.

His instincts were telling him, however, that right now he should give her what she _actually_ wanted, not just what she _thought_ she wanted. A lot like Krutabulon women, that way. They didn’t want to stop hunting, slow down, and enjoy themselves, but when you persuaded them to do so it was quite remarkable.

And Beth had implied earlier that she was tired of missionary.

He sat back on his heels, unfastening his trousers. Beth propped herself up on her elbows, admiring the view up close. He hadn’t removed his underwear yet, but the thin fabric did very little to conceal the shape of him in this state. She ran her finger down the length of stretched cotton, pressing her lips against the tip. Ford’s hands rested heavily on her shoulders, but he didn’t push her back. She licked her lips. “You don’t have any alien viruses, right? I should get a condom.”

“Is that the _right_ way to do this?” he asked, voice tight and barely controlled.

“Depends.” She looked up at him through her lashes and kissed him through his underwear again. There was a strong answering twitch. “Do you have any alien viruses?”

“No,” Ford croaked out.

“Well then,” said Beth, tugging his underwear out of the way. She ran the tip of her tongue along the same path her finger had taken moments before, enjoying working up to it. Then she parted her full, soft lips and slid her mouth all the way down.

This unexpected turn was completely out of the realm of Ford’s experience. He had fantasized about it, naturally, when he was much younger, after Stanley bragged about it to him. He had supposed that, perhaps due to differences in culture, it had never even occurred to most of the female species he’d previously encountered. But here was a beautiful human woman, eagerly debasing herself like this. For him. He could never have imagined the way it would feel, the way her tongue would press against him, the incredible seductiveness of her gentle suction. He was vaguely aware of the blood pounding in his ears, of his muscles shaking, but nothing seemed to matter so much as the sensations Beth was creating. Stanford Pines was losing control.

_It’s funny,_ thought Beth, moving her tongue in a circle as she pulled back an inch or so, _if Jerry asked me to blow him, I’d probably laugh in his face._ Then again, Jerry had never given her a series of orgasms like the ones she’d just experienced. Right now, she _wanted_ to do this. No, more than that. _I’m enjoying myself!_ The way his hands were clenching her shoulders and the liquid she could taste on the back of her tongue were a pretty fair indication that he was, too. She slid her mouth back and forth again, faster. His grip on her shoulders hurt, but it was making her wet all over again. She felt him freeze up a split second before the spasm coated the back of her throat. He tasted _good_. Salt and victory. She swallowed again, drawing more of it out, feeling like a goddess. Ford groaned audibly.

Beth lay back, stretched her arms languidly above her head, and smiled up at him. “Did they do _that_ on Krutabulon?”

It was as though she’d been reading his thoughts! “Er…no.” Ford sat down properly on the sofa at last, removing his pants and underwear the rest of the way and folding them neatly. Even the underwear. “That was quite remarkable, my dear.” He cleared his throat. “Really something.”

She grinned and stretched further, arching her back. “That was a nice appetizer. Do you need a drink before the main course?”

“A glass of water is an excellent idea at this juncture. Yes, thank you.”

Beth slid her feet off the sofa and stood up, heading to the kitchen. “I hope that shirt is off when I get back. Hint, hint.” She made sure to give him a nice view of her back and ass as she left the room. After pouring herself half a glass of cool water from the kitchen sink, she refilled the cup and carried it out to the living room.

Ford had taken the heavy-handed hint; his dark turtleneck was now stacked with the rest of his clothing, revealing broad shoulders and a trim waist. Salt and pepper chest hair covered his pectorals. She put the back of one hand to her forehead and pretended to swoon, stopping the act short of collapsing and spilling the water. Grinning, she straightened back up and walked over to him. “Where have _you_ been all my life?”

“In another dimension,” he answered without thinking. Then he paused and did think about it. “ _Several_ other dimensions, actually.”

She snorted, passed him the glass, and saw the tattoo on the other side of his neck. “Holy shit, what is _that_?” She circled around, sitting down on the same side as the ink and getting a better look. He was blushing crimson before she even touched it. Beth bit into her lower lip in a futile attempt to stop the laughter bubbling up. Nope, it was going coming, no stopping it. She threw her head back and laughed.

Despite his embarrassment, Ford smiled at the sound of her laughter. “Yes, I expected a reaction similar to that,” he sighed. “I wear a turtleneck for a reason.”

Beth extended her forefinger, pressing it against the happy-faced cartoon star on his neck. “ _Somebody once told me_ ,” she sang, amusement dripping from her voice. “ _The world is gonna roll me, I ain’t the sharpest tool in the shed. She was looking kinda dumb with her finger and her thumb in the shape of an L on her forehead…_ ” She started laughing again. It was so completely incongruous with everything she’d seen of the man! “What the hell possessed you?”

“In my defense,” said Ford primly, “I had no idea as to the origins of the song when I got it. It was extremely popular amongst the tribe of octopus-armed warrior piglets with whom I spent an extremely memorable—and mostly inebriated—week. They assured me it was the mark of a true warrior.”

“A true warrior, huh?” Beth leaned in, letting her breasts brush against his bare arm as she kissed the tattoo, fluttering her tongue against the skin. “I like it.” Then she sat back, giving him a chance to drink his water. “So, tell me about Steve.”

He chucked and took a sip before answering. “I don’t suppose its name is really even Steve,” he admitted. “That’s just the name I gave it. Some species of tree-giant I encountered in Gravity Falls.”

“Gravity Falls?”

Goodness, he hadn’t told her _anything_! “The closest thing I have to a home. It’s a city in Oregon. I’m not even sure it exists in this dimension. It’s a drawing point for all the strange and mysterious creatures of the world.”

“Is that where you met the warrior piglets?”

He shook his head. “That was…I’m not sure of the name of their dimension, I’m afraid. They seemed a bit unclear on that point, when I tried to ask them. But certainly not my own. At any rate, Steve. He didn’t seem interested in communicating with me, despite my best efforts. But he made himself known, from time to time.”

“By eating cars?” Beth’s hand was on his thigh now, he noticed. She really was insatiable!

“Only one, that I’m aware of,” he answered. “Sadly, it was mine.”

She laughed. “I don’t like to think about what Dad would do to something that ate our car!”

“Oh, Steve was perfectly harmless.” Ford’s eyes twinkled. “I wouldn’t want to set your father loose on him.”

“And what about this Oracle?” Her hand was inching slowly up.

He downed the rest of his water quickly. “Ah, yes. Jheselbraum the Unswerving.” The memory was a pleasant one. “A being of incredible power and knowledge. She tended to me after a particularly unfortunately visit to the second dimension.”

“ _Tended_ to you?” Beth repeated, reading between the lines. “You tapped that, didn’t you!”

“She healed me from substantial wounds and provided invaluable insight,” Ford answered stiffly.

Beth grinned. “So, yes. Was she hot?”

“She had seven eyes and no nose.”

“So not hotter than me?”

“My dear, I don’t believe there’s a woman alive more attractive than you.”

“You’re catching on, Dr. Pines! _That’s_ what a woman wants to hear!” She stroked the inside of his leg, the touch tantalizingly soft. “I’m still a bit jealous of this Jheselbraum, though. Nursing the hero back to health is very romantic.”

“More a doctor than nurse.” He took one more sip before setting the glass on the coffee table, proceeding to lean back and enjoy himself. “She put a metal plate in my head.” He rapped on the back of his skull for emphasis. There was a definite ringing, metallic sound.

Beth forgot about stroking his thigh. “For God’s sake, _why_?” she asked with concern. Brain surgery was always so risky!

“I had, rather stupidly, entered into an agreement with Bill Cipher. He could possess me at will, and this plate stopped him. It’s also proof against hiveminds, vampiric domination, psychic powers, and memory elimination.” _For which I’m deeply sorry, Stanley._ A melancholy expression overtook his features momentarily.

Beth, unaware of everything that had befallen his family thanks to his mistakes, was still hung up on the scientific aspect of his comment. “You’re telling me that the tinfoil hat brigade is _right_?”

“Let’s say they might be on the right track.” Humor returned to his face. “But Jheselbraum’s methods are infinitely more utilitarian.” His face softened as he thought of that, pupils dilating slightly.

Beth noticed. “You didn’t just tap that, you’re in _love_!” She folded her arms under her bare breasts. “I’m definitely jealous!”

“Don’t be.” Ford put a hand around her shoulders, seeking to reassure her even as he reminisced about Jheselbraum. “She’s a bit above my desires. Yes—we were intimate, once. She was so lonely! She cares so much for the multiverse. _Someone_ needed to care for her for once.” A faint smile touched his lips. “It was a pleasant interlude and she was touched. But she quickly returned to the maintenance of the continua. Your father and I were merely her tools. She wanted the elimination of both the Galactic Federation and Bill Cipher. Your father and I enabled her to meet those ends. Nothing more.”

He dragged his memory out of the past, focusing on the lovely creature next to him. “You are far more suitable! You’re beautiful and brilliant and human. Jheselbraum is eight feet tall. You’re a much better fit for my arms _and_ my mind.” He pulled her in closer, to demonstrate.

“Nice save, Ford.” She turned in his arms, wiggling back until she was seated sideways in his lap. “Okay, she was a doctor. You like doctors. Have I mentioned _I’m_ a doctor?”

“It may have come up.”

That smile again! _My heart hurts, he’s so attractive. He takes up with some kind of demigod because she’s_ lonely _! He’s Dad, and he’s the total opposite of Dad. Brutal, but compassionate. Jerry’s his opposite, too—he’s_ kind _like him, but so much smarter,_ so _much smarter! And so much more self-aware. He’s perfect._

“Are you rested?” she asked aloud as she ran her fingers down his chest, luxuriating in the body hair. “Rehydrated? Ready to see how _else_ we fit together?”

“Not yet.” He ran his hands down her back, reciprocating. Her skin was impossibly smooth. “I have other things I want to do with you first. I believe I need to repay you for the remarkable experience you just gave me, for one.”

“You want to go down on me?” There was a hint of frightened wonder in her voice that she didn’t care for. She focused on his chest hair, trying to appear confident. _I haven’t had oral in_ years _. Not since that lesbian experience in college. She was great, though. Tiny little thing with B-cups, pre-law,_ so _exuberant! I liked it then, but Jerry doesn’t seem interested. Just as well, he’d want me to reciprocate. Ugh!_ But hey, if Ford wanted to… “How many orgasms do you think I can have?”

“An excellent question! Let’s find out.” He jumped up, grabbing his coat from the chair and pulling out a reddish book with a gold six-fingered hand on and the number four on the cover. He dug further into one of the pockets and produced and old-fashioned fountain pen. “How many have you had so far?” he inquired as he flipped through the pages.

“Four, I think?” The last ones had been right on top of each other, it was hard to separate them out in her mind. Ford, having found a blank page in his book, wrote that down. “Wait a minute, mister! You are _not_ taking notes while we’re making love!”

“How else am I going to improve?” he asked earnestly. “Beth, the difference between science and just messing around is writing things down!”

She stood up, putting her hand on the book as she considered taking it from him. “You’ll just have to remember, won’t you, smart guy! Wait.” Her grip on the book relaxed as she turned her attention to his face. “You want to do this _again_?”

He set the journal down on the arm of the sofa, taking her hands in his. “Beth, I would like to do this as often as possible. Although if you don’t want an old man pawing at you, I completely understand. But I enjoy your company, and I haven’t even seen Richard yet. I’ll be back! I’ll be leaving on an expedition to the Arctic with my brother soon—but until then, I would like to see you at least once a week. If I may.”

“Oh, you may!” Beth smiled so hard her face hurt. “I think I _like_ old men pawing at me. Though I’m not sure once a week is often enough, especially if you’re taking an extended absence soon. Oh, and Dad might try to kill you.”

He didn’t seem too concerned by that. “Wouldn’t be the first time. My dear, I can handle Richard. Now, lie back and spread your legs. I want to taste you.”

She remained standing. “Oh no. If you’re giving me oral, you’re doing it in my bed. To stick it to Jerry.”

Ford chuckled. “You’re a hard woman, my dear. I can appreciate that. As you wish.” He put one hand behind her shoulders and one against the back of her thighs, scooping her into his arms in one quick movement. “Where to?”

“Through that door, across the entrance hall, up the stairs, right turn, first door on the right. Are you going to carry me the whole way?”

“Certainly.” And he did. Like a man carrying his bride over the threshold, he took her across the entrance hall, up the stairs, and through a right turn.

“Wait,” Beth said suddenly. “I changed my mind. I want you to _fuck_ me in the bed I share with Jerry. For _this_ , I think Summer’s, instead. That’ll teach her to be young and attractive.”

If Ford had any objections, he didn’t raise them. She directed him across the hall, opening the door and switching on the lights without her feet ever touching the floor. Ford tossed her onto Summer’s bed. She bounced. The bed was unmade; she kicked a few covers out of the way and settled back comfortably. The way he was looking at her sent a pleasant shiver down her spine. She grinned at him and spread her legs, grasping her knees and pulling them nearly to her breasts.

Ford carefully removed his glasses and set them on the bedside table. Then he found the optimal position on the mattress, leaned forward, and kissed the inside of her left thigh. Then her right. He ran his tongue all the way up her leg, nearly to her torso, and bit her. She groaned and held onto her knees harder. He switched back to the left thigh, nipping there as well. His tongue licked its way to her perineum, then slightly to the right. He moved his tongue up between Beth’s right lips to her clitoris, which he gave its own little lick. Her breathing was shallow, excited. Good. He brought his tongue back down the left side before inserting it into her. Beth lost control of her hands, her knees falling to the mattress at a wide, inviting angle.

After running his tongue along the right side, he looped it around her clitoris, followed by another loop, another deep insertion of the tongue, and ending with a quick, precise lick at her taint. Beth’s hips had rotated forward approximately twenty degrees, and a brief glance up showed him her hands, clutching at the rumpled bedspread. He would have liked to see the look on her face, but there was still so much he wanted to do with the tapestry right in front of him. He dove back in, bringing his tongue in a wide half-loop around the entire area, sliding it up her right lips, making a half loop around the other side, then up the right lips again. He followed it up by drawing three horizontal slashes with the tip of his tongue, the uppermost of which just brushed her hood. Beth made a sound deep in her throat, the likes of which he’d never heard before.

Ford glanced up again, concerned, and got his look at her face. Lips parted, eyes closed, intensity and pleasure written in every line. A _good_ sound, then. He smiled faintly and went back to what he was doing.

She made it again as he performed a counter-clockwise loop and stuck his tongue deep inside her. This time he didn’t pause, continuing with two vertical slashes on her outer lips and following them with another insertion. She made a different sound, higher pitched, bunching the bedspread in her fists. Her entire body was so tense it was trembling. He knew how she felt. He moved his tongue right to left down low, up her entire length, right to left higher up, one, two, three times, then back down. Up on the right, then inside her, then…

Beth was discovering a new meaning ecstasy. She’d thought that pre-med girl in college was good? That was nothing, _nothing_ compared to this. What was he _doing_ to her? Every choice he made, each movement, it was like it was precisely calculated to bring her right to the brink. She’d been teetering back and forth for some time now on the edge of what might be one extended orgasm or might be a half dozen. _Good luck recording this in your book, Ford! I don’t even know which way is up._ His tongue dipped lower than ever, touching her ass in something she had _never_ imagined someone would do to her. At the same time, there was a wonderful pressure pushing between her lips. _His nose. Oh my god, he’s practically fucking me with his_ nose _!_ The sheer obscenity of it, coupled with the sensory overload, pushed her off the precipice.

Her hips bucked and her whole body shook. One of her hands latched onto Ford’s forearm, where her nails dug into the skin. A breathless shout jerked out of her. Her back arched and her head tipped backward and she came, _oh God,_ she came harder than she’d known was possible.

And he kept going. Suction on her clit, tongue, was that _teeth_? Who knew it could feel this good? When he hummed directly onto it, the vibration tumbled her into another cascade of orgasms. She nearly begged him not to stop when he ceased humming, but then his tongue swooped up toward her left hipbone back down the left side of her lips, and he used his teeth again—this time gently tugging on her labium. He did the same thing on the right side. Had she ever come this hard in her _life_? Another one swept through her, washing out the world around her with its intensity.

Ford’s face was soaked. He felt, obscurely, like a glazed donut, if a glazed donut could be sentient and painfully aroused. She was quivering, her hips rocking back and forth, and he badly wanted to mount her like an animal. The sounds, the taste, the pheromones, everything in her biology was screaming at him that this woman was his for the taking.

No. He was more than an animal, he was a _scientist_. And he wasn’t finished yet. He used his tongue to draw a circle, in his saliva and her juices, around her beautiful folds. Next he darted his tongue up her right lip before looping around her clitoris, teasing her, before plunging inside. Beth made a series of high-pitched whimpers, but this time he didn’t mistake them for a sign that he was doing something wrong. Quite the contrary. He made another circle, following it with a line out toward her left butt cheek. He nipped the skin there, lightly, and her back arched again. He was, he realized, enjoying this science experiment. Teasing her was a great deal of fun and feeling her writhe in extended orgasms was even better.

 _Take me, damn it!_ Beth thought urgently, when she could think at all. _Ford Ford Ford Ford oh_ God _! No, don’t stop, don’t ever stop, I need you, oh this is amazing, I’m, I’m, I’m_ — Another orgasm tore through her, cancelling out the thought. _What number was that? Christ, I’m going to be too exhausted to fuck him by the time he gets done here. Oh no, he’s doing that thing again, oh, oh—_

The intense trembling in her thighs and the way she persisted in tipping her hips back and forth did little to dissuade Ford from dragging his tongue slowly, slowly up the length of her before penetrating her yet again. _She even tastes wonderful._ He latched his mouth over her clitoris and started humming again, this time prepared for her escalating cries of pleasure. He let his mouth linger before gradually making his way to her left hip; it returned to work her button some more, then found its way to her right hip. A line across her clit, another diagonal penetration, and a line across her taint. There, that ought to do it.

He removed his head from between her legs and grinned, veritably dripping with her juices, as he waited for her last orgasm to subside. Eventually, she propped herself up on one elbow and looked down at him. Ford licked his lips. “I’ll be tasting you all week, my dear.” There was a faint tremor of tightly controlled desire in his voice. He wondered if she noticed it. “Remember that. Every time I lick my lips I’ll be right back here, tasting you!”

Beth let her head drop back onto the mess of blankets. Speech sounded like a tall order right now. A little shudder travelled through her, coupled with a faint groan. She pulled in a deep, slow breath. “ _Where_ did you learn to do _that_? No, never mind, I don’t care. Come here.” Weakly, she motioned him upward. They barely touched as he crawled over her, even though it would have been so easy for him to just take the position on top. Instead he settled in next to her, lying side-by-side on the twin bed. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him into a deep kiss.

When he pulled away, both of their faces had a slight sheen to them. Beth wiped at her cheeks and the tip of her nose with her thumb, bringing the digit back to her mouth thoughtfully. “So what’s what I taste like? Not bad.”

“Not bad?” Ford repeated, raising his eyebrows. “I could dine on only you for days.” He looked different without the cracked glasses. Even more handsome, with eyes like that. She kissed him again. One of her hands went down to settle on his side, slowly drifting down, tracing little patterns like waves with her nails. When she made it down to his hip, she moved inward, wrapping her hand around his erection and squeezing gently. Her body informed her in no uncertain terms that it wasn’t that worn out from all the orgasms after all.

“Want to switch rooms?” he whispered as if reading her mind.

She didn’t, but she did. She was ready now, he was here, she wanted him, fuck the rest of it. But the appeal of doing it in her own bed was too strong. Most of that was her inner bitch, the part that blamed Jerry for everything and wanted to do something petty and vindictive. But there was also a smaller, more romantic part of her, that liked the idea. That part whispered to her that if they moved to her own bed, then the next time she was lying awake at night feeling like a miserable lonely failure, she could roll over and maybe smell the faintest hint of Ford on the pillow.

“Yes,” she agreed. “Right across the hall.”

He carried her there. That was just as well, given the amount of shaking her leg muscles had been doing and how wet she still was. Walking sounded uncomfortable and complicated.

The master bed was nicely made. Ford set her gently on top of it, but she kept her arms around his shoulders as he set her down. That dragged him down on top of her. He looked at her seriously for a minute, so much going on behind those intelligent eyes, and he ran one thumb slowly along the line of her jaw. She caught his hand, holding it to her lips and kissing each one of his fingers. _Next time, I want to see how many of these he can fit inside me._ When she was through, she moved his hand down to her left breast, sliding her own down to his ass. Her knees leaned outward and her hips rose eagerly. _Yes, here, like this._

Fractionally, Ford shook his head at her. He kissed her slowly as he massaged her breast—first on the lips, then on her throat, then over to her collarbone. “Turn over,” he murmured into her ear, the words themselves like a caress. “You specified _not_ missionary, I believe. And this is something I very much want to get right.”

There were plenty of other options beside missionary. Over the years, Jerry had tried maybe two of them. What Ford was suggesting was not one of the two. Beth’s breath caught in excitement. He sat back, allowing her to roll over onto her stomach. She got her hands and knees under her while he settled himself between her calves, on his knees as well. His hands started at her chest, rubbing her nipples until they hardened and then moving out to stroke her sides and hips. She moaned, ducking her head and pressing her forehead into her pillow. Ford moved his hands down the backs of her thighs, adjusting her position slightly so that her knees were spread. She felt deliciously exposed, but wished he’d hurry up. She wanted him so much it was like an ache inside her.

Ford hadn’t planned it this way. When she’d first asked him if he knew anything besides missionary he had thought of the female superior position, or perhaps something side-by-side. But in the moment, this felt like the thing to do. The sounds she made, and the drive inside him, they were so… _base,_ simple, animal. This felt like what she’d want. It was certainly what _he_ wanted—though at this point, taking her in _any_ position would have been perfection. He took another moment to admire her from behind. Beautiful shape, eminently touchable skin, posture that fairly screamed her desire for him. He let his hand glide over the curve of her ass and shifted closer, until he was brushing against the gates of heaven.

Beth arched her back, adjusting her pelvis and pushing herself back toward him. He embraced the moment, gripping her at the hips and pushing into her. She was soaked, and he was hard, and immediately the warm pressure of her surrounded him all the way to the base. She moaned loudly, a sound of supreme satisfaction and longing. It was only as he pulled slowly back and pushed in again that he realized the moan had been his _name_.

 _This is fantastic. This is fantastic. This is fantastic_. The thought looped through her head on repeat, skipping back and forth like an old record. The pressure was sweet and powerful all at once, and she smothered her next cry in the pillow. Feeling him slap into her thighs and butt with every thrust added an extra level to it. _Fuck! Yes! Ford! Give it to me!_ Every moment was an exclamation point. He was rubbing against so many good places at the same time. From this angle, her G-spot was invited to the party. Again and again and again, the friction built on itself until it was almost unbearable. His right hand left her hip and took her dangling breast, thumb and forefinger taking her nipple, the remaining four (four! Six fingers were wonderful!) supporting and gently kneading. His left hand remained on her hip, guiding him as he slammed into her over and over again, scrotum slapping against her clitoris. Her vagina _gripped_ tightly, her cervix spasming.

She came. He didn’t. He kept going right through it, holding her hips in place while she pounded her fist against the mattress and gasped inarticulate words of affirmation into her bed. Something was missing, though. It nagged at her even through the intense pleasure.

Of course. There was a little more romance in Beth Smith than she’d realized. She wanted to see his face.

“Ford,” she panted, spitting out the mouthful of bedspread she’d been biting into. “Ford. Hold on.” He slowed and paused, though his wonderfully tight grip on her hips remained. “Lie down?” She asked, didn’t dictate, not this time.

The sudden emptiness in her when he pulled out was practically unbearable, but it was only for a few seconds. He lay down on his back, and she climbed onto him at once, getting him back where he belonged before leaning forward to kiss him.

 _Well,_ thought Ford, _it seems we wound up in the female superior position after all. This is pleasant._ He kissed her back, tongues wrestling, and enjoyed the simple sensations: the kiss, her breasts pressing against his chest, her hands in his hair, her skin under his hands. Her breasts moved against him and she bit his lower lip. “Oh, Beth,” he murmured. Of course the _other_ sensations—such as himself deep in her velvety wetness, thrusting again and again—those were even better. Unbidden, the song came into his head and he adjusted himself to its rhythms. _Hey now, you’re an all star, get your game on, go play…_

Beth was in heaven. _Oh,_ she thought happily, _this is nice!_ Jerry would have finished long before now, coming inside her and saying something stupid like ‘hungry for apples’ or calling her Taddy Mason. But Ford just kept going and going and going! She wiggled her boobs into him and bit his lip. “Oh, Beth,” he murmured, sounding every bit as happy as she felt. _He_ got her name right and appreciated when she moved! _Sometimes I think if I said nothing and didn’t move at all, Jerry would think that was the best sex of his life. Fuck Jerry! No, fuck Ford! I’m fucking Ford and it’s_ sooooo _good!_

She straightened up, sending him deeper into her than he had been. A wicked thought took her. “Lay back and relax, Ford,” she breathed into his ear. “I’m driving.” She set her hands on his chest and started raising and lowering herself on him. _I want to_ move, _I want to be in_ control _!_ She found a rhythm she liked. Ford had stopped thrusting, but his hands were on the undersides of her breasts again, thumbs occasionally caressing her nipples. _That’s fine, that’s good, that’s…oh lord, here it comes again!_

He started thrusting again, against her downstrokes, getting deeper in Beth than any man had ever been. Orgasms took her again, and somehow in the frenzy of it she felt the hot wetness of Ford’s ejaculation filling her. It splashed against her cervix, which greedily swallowed it up. Thank God she was on the pill; she didn’t want any more Jerry babies. A baby Ford, though? Huh. A little blonde with his eyes and maybe six fingers? No, bad idea. Tempting, but dangerous. Someone with both Dad’s and Ford’s DNA would probably take over the universe.

She half rolled, half collapsed off of him, leaving a trail of their combined fluids across Ford’s thigh…and belly…and the bedspread. She reached over, took his face in both hands, and kissed him. “Thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you! You have _no_ idea how much I needed this! Oops, sorry,” she added as she grabbed a tissue from the bedside table and dabbed up the spillage.

“Think nothing of it!” Ford declared sincerely, brushing his thumb along her cheek. “If anything, it’s I that owes you. Oh dear, we appear to have ruined your lovely duvet. That’s dry clean only, if I’m any judge.”

“Fuck the bedspread!” she snorted. “I’ll _wash_ the bedspread! Dry clean only, my ass. Anyway, it’s not like Jerry would notice. He’s oblivious. It’s just one of many irritating things about him. _You_ owe _me_?”

“Indeed, my dear. Thank you. In many ways, this is the best part of the best year of my life. In the last six months I’ve gotten home from years of wandering the multiverse, eliminated Bill Cipher, started reconciling with my brother, reconciled with an old friend, discovered family I didn’t know I had, been hailed as a hero in my adopted home—and now I’ve become friends with the most remarkable, beautiful, and brilliant woman it has ever been my pleasure to meet. My cup runneth over! All of my childhood dreams have come, or are coming, true!”

“No shit? You defeat your long-time nemesis from beyond the pale, go home, reconnect with family, and _I’m_ the bright spot? You’re either very sweet or a terrific liar! Either way, I appreciate it.” She kissed his cheek. Then she yawned. “I don’t know about you, but I’m exhausted! It’s getting so late, it’s almost early! I think I just want to drift off, safe in the arms of an infamous interdimensional terrorist and criminal.” She lay her head and left arm on his chest, wrapped both legs around his left leg, closed her eyes, and was snoring in minutes.

Ford lay on his back, happy and content. He gently stroked Beth’s back as she slept. _Definitely, the best year of my life. Everything I wanted, and a beautiful blonde wrapped…around…me…_

He slept.

*

Lightening crashes. The angel opens her eyes. _Another thunderstorm! This is what I get for living in Seattle._ Consciousness trickled in. Thunder rolled. _I’m naked in my bed. Why am I naked? I’m naked and cuddling a man…a strange man. What the fuck? Fuck!_ That’s _what happened. I got_ fucked _last night! I started out wanting to get fucked_ up _, but instead I got well and truly fucked._

 _Ford, that’s it! Old friend of Dad’s. I didn’t even know Dad_ had _friends. People he got high with, yeah. Co-conspirators, sure. But friends? Well, good luck for me that he does!_ Dreamily, she ran her fingers through his chest hair.

Ford awaked to his normal early morning fog. He seemed to be in bed with a woman. Still dreaming, then. This _was_ a particularly detailed dream, though. The enchanting blonde even smiled at him and murmured “Good morning, sleepyhead!” before planting a kiss on his chest. Something seemed strange… _wait._ This was _real_! “Coffee,” he muttered, pushing himself up onto his elbows. “I need caffeine. Everything will be clear after coffee.”

“Sure you don’t want to stay in bed all day?” the woman—Beth—purred.

“Tempting,” Ford answered, blinking blearily and noticing she was nude. “Sorely tempting. But not without coffee, I’m afraid. I’d be quite worthless.”

“You’re no fun!” Beth sighed and stretched expansively. “But okay.” She got out of bed and started getting dressed.

Ford looked around. Besides his normal sluggishness of mind upon awakening, he couldn’t _see_! He generally slept in his glasses, uncomfortable as that was. It had probably saved his life several times out across the multiverse. “Where are my glasses?” he asked, squinting and leaning toward the bedside table. “Where are my clothes?”

Beth was on the end of the bed, tying her off-brand white sneakers. “Your glasses? I think they’re in Summer’s room. Your clothes are neatly folded on a chair downstairs. Even when you’re being seduced by a horny housewife, you’re impeccably neat.”

He felt like some witty response was required at this juncture, but he simply couldn’t think of one. “I _really_ need coffee,” he told her instead. “Everything’s so clear after coffee.”

“Come with me then, sleepyhead!” She sounded amused as she led him across the hall. She grabbed his glasses from the bedside table and stepped close to place them on his face. “There. Better?”

“Much.” He returned her smile. “I can see you now, for one thing. Coffee?”

Beth tipped her head down, examining his nude body appreciatively. “I think my view is better. Okay, come with me, Mr. One-track-mind. We’ll get your coffee.” She took his hand and led him downstairs, through the entry hall, and back into the living room. “Your clothes, sir. I’ll get started on the coffee.” She vanished into the kitchen, leaving him to dress.

Ford methodically pulled his clothes on, picked up his journal, and followed her. She was busy at the counter, but he seated himself at the breakfast nook. Coffee was starting to pour through the filter. Just the smell revitalized him somewhat. “Ah. Good morning, Bethany.”

“Coffee soon,” she said in answer. “Ford, after everything we did last night, I really think I prefer Beth. Or lover. Darling. Smokin’ hot bitch. Not Bethany.”

“Alright, Beth.” A smile tugged at his lips. “Lover. Darling. Smoking hot bitch, though, that seems a trifle abusive. I’m not sure I’m comfortable calling you a bitch.”

“Trust me,” Beth said as she got creamer out of the fridge, “in _my_ family, that’s a term of endearment. Both my kids, my husband, and definitely my dad all call me bitch!” She paused. “I guess Dad does call me ‘sweetie’ a _little_ more often. Cream and sugar?”

“No, thank you.”

Beth shrugged, adding a scant teaspoon of sugar and a dash of creamer to her own cup, and then poured coffee into both. She carried it over to the breakfast nook, setting both down before claiming the other seat there.

“Ah, the elixir of life!” Ford took a long sip and sighed in contentment. “That’s better!” He took another, just to be safe. “You know, it’s possible that I feel about coffee something like the way your father feels about alcohol.” He drank a bit more. The fog lifted. And he remembered yesterday clearly.

“Oh, Beth! You _are_ my lover and my darling! You are even, yes, a smokin’ hot bitch!” He dropped the G from the phrase properly this time, and he smiled as he reached out a hand to rest on top of hers. “So, what’s the agenda for today? I believe I still have several hours before my portal reopens.” He glanced at the stove clock to confirm that fact. Yes, about six hours.

“Personally, I’d like to get out of these clothes and take up where we left off last night.” Her hand rotated in his so that her fingers could trace lines along his palm. There was something undeniably sexual about the simple contact. “You’ve had your coffee, now let’s get back to bed!”

“That could be awkward,” Ford objected. “What if your family returns?” He drank more coffee.

“Fuck!” she agreed, her fingers going still. “That _would_ be awkward! Jerry once threatened to blow his brains out on our naked bodies if he caught me having an affair.”

“That would be unpleasant, but hardly insurmountable,” Ford responded thoughtfully. “Brains wash off. I’ve heard more intimidating threats.”

Her fingers started moving again, tiptoeing up his arm. “I love the fact that you actually _know_ brains wash off! You’re a smokin’ hot bitch, yourself! I suppose we _could_ do something touristy. You want to see the Space Needle?” Beth was definitely feeling twinges of fresh desire. Brains.

“Isn’t it a glorified fire watch tower?” Ford asked.

“Well, yes,” she admitted, taking a sip from her own mug. “Kind of. They have a new level with glass floors. You’re not afraid of heights, are you?”

Ford lifted his eyebrows. “Beth. I’ve been in space. _Actual_ space, not Space Needle space.”

“The architecture is interesting. Futuristic.”

“The architecture in the M dimension is also interesting. I don’t want to go there, either.”

“There’s a great view of Mount Rainier.”

He looked out the window, through the clouds and the rain. “There’s a very good view of Mount Rainier right here.” His eyes drifted back to Beth, focusing on her chest. “And a magnificent set of twin peaks.” She smiled at him. “Beth, what’s the real reason you want to go to the Space Needle?”

“There’s a pretty good ice cream shop nearby,” she admitted. “Ice cream is important to my family, okay? I wanted to share some with you.” Somehow, for her, ice cream _meant_ something. And so did Ford, now. If they weren’t going back to the bedroom, then ice cream seemed like a requirement.

“Very well.” He smiled indulgently. “We’ll go to the Space Needle, see what passed as futuristic in 1962, see Mount Rainier, and then have some pretty good ice cream.” He drank more coffee. “Isn’t there a museum of industrial history here, also?”

Beth groaned at the thought. “Ford, it’s _so_ fucking boring! Do that on your own time! _I’ll_ take you to the Pike Place Market, we have some interesting traditions. I think they’ll amuse you.”

“You want to take me to a farmer’s market?” he chuckled. “For the first time since I met you, I genuinely believe that you’re a housewife.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Oh, I hope they hit _you_ with the fish!” They wouldn’t, though. He’d probably catch it, and everyone would clap. He was that kind of guy.

Ford’s brow creased. He was really cute when he was confused. “What?”

“You’ll see.” She smiled beguilingly at him.

*

Maybe they should have returned to the bedroom after all. Once he’d been properly caffeinated, Ford couldn’t seem to take his eyes off Beth. She looked beautiful in jeans and a blouse, but his mind kept straying back to the way she had looked in that dress the previous night. Or better yet, the way she had looked in nothing at all. His fingers itched both to touch her like that again, and to pick up a pencil and sketch her into his journal. _Hm. On second thought, perhaps not the journal. Dipper is a bit too interested in studying those._ Next time. He’d bring along a proper sketchpad next time. Because he’d promised there would _be_ a next time! That thought put him into a truly excellent mood.

Beth drove them into the heart of the city. The rain had slowed to a fine mist, and the streets were bustling. As promised, she dragged him into the Space Needle first. It had been a long time since she had been there—not since they’d first moved to Seattle, years and years ago. Ford looked around everything with interest as they waited in line. Most of the walls even at this level were glass, so there was plenty to admire (though Beth was fairly sure his eyes kept coming back to her ass).

He kept up a steady stream of questions, too. What was that building off that way, were all the plants out there native to Washington, how long had she lived here, did she enjoy Seattle, on and on. It didn’t feel intrusive or boring, though. He was genuinely _interested_ in the answers to all those questions, not just making conversation. That was what made the difference. In the process, she wound up telling him all about their move from Michigan and learned in exchange that he was originally from New Jersey, of all places! He didn’t act or sound anything like the Jersey people on that garbage show she occasionally watched with Jerry. The only thing that remotely fit was the tattoo on his neck. Thinking about that tattoo again made her smile.

Ford noticed and raised his eyebrows. “Something’s amused my darling Beth.”

_Darling_. She slipped her hand into his. “Yes. I was just thinking about your tattoo again.”

Ford briefly shut his eyes, embarrassment and amusement playing across his features. “I see.”

She leaned in to kiss the spot on his neck, even though it was once again concealed by his turtleneck. “Don’t be ashamed. No one else I know has ever gotten a cartoon star tattooed on their neck with a tribe of miniature pig warriors.” She looked tipped her head to the side and ran her eyes up and down him appreciatively. “Why have it if you’re going to cover it up? You’d look great in a t-shirt! You look like you’re hiding a hickey.” At that thought, she leaned back in closer. “Should I give you a hickey?”

“Beth, please,” he murmured softly, looking at the throngs of tourists around them.

She ran a hand along the top of his chest up to the neck of his shirt and tugged it downward on the side without the tattoo. She brought her lips in close. “Since you asked nicely.”

“Beth!” Ford blushed faintly, but his hands also found her waist. “That’s not what I meant.”

“I know.” She grinned mischievously at him and stepped back to a slightly more respectable distance. “Maybe later, though.”

They reached the ticket counter. It was tempting to ask Ford exactly how old he was, because the idea of getting the senior discount tickled her. But she didn’t. He seemed a little insecure about things like that, and for once in her life she _didn’t_ want the man she was sleeping with feel bad about himself. Instead, she bought two adult tickets and they went up to the top of the Space Needle.

It was glass everywhere, even more than the last time she’d visited. Every which way you looked, you saw the city spreading out beneath you. People were posing for cheesy photos all around them. A few feet away, a young couple was using a selfie stick to capture themselves kissing in front of the view. Beth was tempted to try that herself, but her arm wasn’t nearly long enough, for one thing. And for another, it would probably raise a lot of questions if Morty or Summer ever decided to skim through the pictures on her phone.

But she wanted _something_ she could look back on remember this weekend, something besides a hint of a smell on her pillow. She dug her phone out of her purse and tapped on the camera icon. “Hey Ford. Smile!”

“Hm?” He had been admiring the view ( _ha, knew you’d like it!_ ) and turned in surprise. “Oh no, you don’t really want a—”

“Say…” She tried to think of something good. “Say ‘I eat cold gromflomite for breakfast!’”

Ford blinked, and then started to laugh. That was when she snapped the picture.

Pleased with herself, she tucked her phone away again and took his hand as they walked around the glass circle.

“What’s that?” He pointed to a splash of green and orange almost directly beneath them. “Some sort of greenhouse?”

“Chihuly Garden and Glass. A bunch of plants and glassworks.”

“Art?” He adjusted his glasses, peering down with more interest.

That’s right, he was an artist! Between all the talk of science and war (and the incredible sex) she’d forgotten that part. “Do you wanna check it out after this?”

“Perhaps.” He smiled and continued walking. Beth pointed out various landmarks to him. She also squinted in the direction in which she knew her own neighborhood lay, though she couldn’t spot it.

“How many places have you been in—” she started to ask, but broke off with a laugh. “I was about to say ‘in our universe.’ I keep forgetting we’re not from the same one.”

His lips curled upward again. “That’s the beauty of the Multiverse, my dear. I suspect in most ways, yours and mine are exactly alike.”

“I wonder if there’s a Beth Smith in your universe,” she said thoughtfully, stopping to watch the sun peek out from behind a cloud.

“I very much doubt it,” Ford answered at once. “I tried looking up your father, when I returned from my travels. So far as I can tell, he doesn’t exist on my end of the curve.”

Beth chewed that over. “He probably just went to live on The Citadel.”

“Regardless. Even if there _is_ a Richard with a lovely daughter in my own universe, I don’t believe I would wish to search. _You_ , my dear, are one of a kind.”

It was a line. It had to be a line. But it was a _good_ line. She smiled radiantly. “You know? So are you.” Ford didn’t seem to know how to respond to that, but she caught him preening slightly. They looked silently out of the city for a while. “Well?” she asked after a bit. “What do you think of the view?”

“Aesthetically pleasing,” he nodded decisively. “It looks like a fascinating city. I suppose, were it to ever stop raining, the view would be even more impressive.”

There was definitely a hint of a smile there. He _knew_ how much it rained in Seattle. “Want to go check out the gardens in the rain?” she asked, starting to walk again.

Ford checked his watch. “I would love to, but perhaps in the interest of saving time we can just skirt around it on our way to the marketplace. I would hate to miss my portal, after waiting for it this long.”

“Right, I know waiting around has been _awful_.” Beth subtly brushed her hand against his ass, which won her another of his most dashing smiles. “Just out of curiosity…what _would_ happen if we weren’t back at the house when your portal reopens?”

“Why, nothing. The portal would open and, in about a minute, reclose. I _would_ be stranded here, however. At least until I could persuade your father to open another one for me. I’m afraid I’m not nearly as brilliant; my mechanism takes up a great deal of the sub-basement of my home. It doesn’t fit in a pocket. And, alas, I cannot control it remotely.” Beth rolled her eyes at the way he belittled his work—as if inventing a portal didn’t already make him brilliant!

“I suppose,” Ford went on, “if some members of your family had returned, they might get an unexpected sojourn to my dimension. Nothing Richard couldn’t sort out.”

Beth was intrigued by these possibilities. _He could be stranded here! Maybe I could convince Dad not to send him home! No, Beth, you’re not kidnapping Ford, no matter how tempting it is! But what if I kept him here and Jerry and the fucking cat went through the portal? Forget it, Beth! Your luck’s not that good. Right, okay, no kidnapping._ Dammit. Life would be much easier if she was like Dad, and just didn’t give a fuck.

“Are you _sure_ you don’t want to go check out Chihuly?” she heard herself asking. “There are plants from around the world, including some Asian varieties that can only be seen here. Or in Asia, I guess. The Crystal and Icicle Towers are really something. Huge glass spires in purples and blues.” Maybe just a _little_ kidnapping.

“Thank you, my dear,” Ford put her off, “but no. It’s not going anywhere, and I would prefer to see it in less inclement weather. You said something about ice cream?”

Okay, fine, no kidnapping. Beth pulled him away from the view of Chihuly Gardens and further around the circle, pointing. “Right there! Dad and Summer discovered it after they got all roided up to take vengeance on Summer’s ex-boss.” She realized how strange that probably sounded and tried to explain. “He Zuckerberged her.” Judging by Ford’s face, that wasn’t really helping. “Anyway, we try to get here at least once a month. Important family milestones get ice cream.” She squeezed his hand. “And you’re certainly an important milestone.”

“Thank you, my dear! I agree, your presence in my life deserves some sort of celebration. If ice cream is important to you, it will certainly do for me.” They headed to the elevators and were quickly back on the ground. The elevators in the Space Needle were fast. Beth mentioned this.

“I’ve been in faster,” Ford answered. “Although those ones have a troubling tendency to try and make small talk.”

Beth was fascinated. Dad said so little about the multiverse, and never divulged fun little bits of trivia like that. Garrulous elevators! She wanted to mine Ford for information, reassure him that he was _incredibly_ interesting, and fuck him silly every day of her life.

They made it to the ice cream shop just as the clouds parted and some pale sunshine broke through. They entered. _What do I want?_ Rocky Road? Rum Raisin? _I guess Jerry did come through_ that _day, he’s not_ all _bad. But this is better. Ooh, what’s this? Something new!_ She read the menu aloud. “Chocolate infused with maple syrup and bacon bits?” She nodded decisively. This was her weekend for new, delicious things. “I’ll have that.”

“Vanilla,” Ford ordered.

“Really?” Beth turned to him in surprise. “Vanilla?”

“It’s the most popular flavor of ice cream in most dimensions! I like vanilla,” Ford responded defensively. It came out grumpy, almost like a pout. She found it endearing.

“Aw, sweetie! I wasn’t running down your choice! I was just surprised that the man who ordered Filet Oscar and Mclaren Vale Shiraz wants vanilla.” He smiled faintly at that. “Since the sun is trying to shine, shall we eat outside?” They paid, took their cups of ice cream, and sat down at the same table Rick and Summer had used when they found the place. The Space Needle towered behind them.

Beth took a bite, and for the second—no wait, third—sixth?—tenth?—time in twenty-four hours she went speechless with pleasure. She let the ice cream slowly dissolve on her tongue, closing her eyes to relish it. “Oh my God! Ford, you _have_ to try this.” She dug out a second spoon of chocolate ice cream, infused with maple syrup and bacon bits.

Ford took it without hesitation and had a similar (if more subdued) reaction. “Marvelous! I may have to bring Stanley here someday. He loves bacon, and has been known to have ice cream for supper.”

_Oh yes,_ please _bring your brother here!_ The thought rose in Beth unbidden. _I want to get double-teamed by the Stan twins!_ Curiosity and desire overtook her, though she tried to make it sound just like curiosity as she asked “So this brother of yours. Your twin. Identical?”

“They _say_ we are, but that’s impossible.” Ford wiggled the fingers on one of his hands. “Stanley’s not a freak. Personally, I believe that we’re sesquizygotic. _Half_ -identical twins.” He went on to explain the science of that to her, confident that a surgeon would easily grasp the concept. Beth nodded, catching on right away, distracted only by a second bite of her ice cream. “We do look _very_ much alike,” Ford concluded, watching her enjoy her ice cream and wondering if she knew how attractive she was as she slid the pink plastic spoon out from between her lips. “Here,” he offered, producing a fresh spoonful of vanilla. “Try mine.”

Beth could see the black flakes of fresh vanilla bean in it. She let him hold the spoon as she relished a slow bite. It wasn’t as complex as hers, but the vanilla flavor was strong and the mouth-feel was smooth, creamy, and wonderful. “Delicious,” she agreed, licking a remnant of it off her lip. “Hey, I have an idea!” Without asking, she dumped her ice cream into his bowl of vanilla and moved her chair around next to his. They finished their ice cream together, the flavors blending, their thighs touching under the table.

“That was nice,” she sighed happily when the last melting bite had vanished. She swiveled her legs over his, so that she was practically in his lap, and brought him in for a kiss. Ford wrapped his arms around her and kissed her wholeheartedly. _He is_ really _getting better at that,_ she thought happily.

“Beth, darling,” he started—only after she’d stopped tasting the lingering vanilla on his tongue, she noticed— “Not that I’m objecting, but isn’t this a little public? You are a married woman, after all.”

How sweet! He was worried about her _reputation_! “Puh-leeze!” She laughed. “Like I’m going to see someone I know here? Do you know how big Seattle is?”

“Dr. Smith, is that you?”

Oh, fuck! _Beth, your luck strikes again._ She slid her legs off of Ford’s lap and turned toward the new voice. _Oh, good, it’s just this asshole._ She relaxed slightly, but the smile she gave the man approaching their table wasn’t warm. “Hello, Scott.”

He stopped in front of her, not so much as a hello. “I’ll be bringing Salazar in next week, if that’s alright.”

For fuck’s sake. Of course on the best day of her life, _Scott_ would turn up to spoil it. “That’s fine, Scott,” she replied coolly, “but you know the rules. You make appointments through channels. Stacy handles appointments.”

Scott’s face twitched in irritation. “But I thought…”

_What, that seeing me enjoying a cup of ice cream on the weekend meant I’d just shove you into the schedule wherever you want? I’m a surgeon, not a secretary, damn it!_ “Stacy handles appointments,” she repeated firmly.

Scott actually _sulked_. It was not a good look for a grown man. “Fine. Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?”

_Are you fucking kidding me?_ “No,” she responded, voice going from cool to icy. “I’m Salazar’s doctor. That doesn’t mean I want you in my personal business.”

“But…” He started to object again. Beth set her teeth, taking a deep breath while she came up with the best way to shut him down.

Ford stood up. When he spoke his voice was deeper, gravelly, with a thick accent. “Listen, buddy. The lady sez she don’t want chu in her bidness. I’m Eight-ball Alcatraz, not dat it’s any your bidness, got it? Visitin’ from Joisey. Now, youse are goin’ ta run along like a good little mook, capishe?” He pulled his coat back so that the man could see his gun.

You could actually see the color drain from Scott’s face. It was beautiful. “Y-yes, sir,” he mumbled, and positively scurried away.

Ford waited till he was out of sight before sitting back down and flashing Beth his crooked little grin. She broke up laughing. “Where the fuck did _that_ come from?”

He shrugged, still smiling. “I do a decent impression of my brother.”

“No shit! Stanley sounds like _that_?”

“On occasion,” he chuckled. “No, his accent isn’t nearly that bad. Not unless he wants it to be.” He switched back to the voice. “But wese Joisey boys, sweetheart. Like Frank Sinatra. It goes wit the territory.” He laughed to himself a bit more, but after a moment he sobered up and became serious. “Is there going to be trouble?”

“Nah,” Beth assured him. “He doesn’t even know I’m married. He’s just a rich asshole who owns a quarter horse that placed all three legs of the Triple Crown three years ago. He’s become a richer asshole by putting Salazar out to stud. I express semen from the stallion about every six months…you’d be surprised how much of my job is jerking off horses.”

Ford nodded, not looking remotely surprised. “I would imagine that and inseminating mares is about seventy to eighty percent.”

Shit, he really _did_ know his stuff! “Takes some of the glamour off, doesn’t it?”

“Not all! As I am thankfully in a position to know, you are very good at expressing semen.” He actually winked at her.

Beth’s face broke into a grin. “You say the nicest things! I don’t use the same method on the horses, though.” She winked back.

He laughed. “I would certainly hope not.”

But he did have a point, too. She _was_ good at expressing horse semen! She was good at a lot of things! “Even if it is mostly insemination, St. Equis is one of the premier equine facilities in the country. Sure, there’s places in Kentucky and Texas, and the Arabian center near Denver, but if you’re in the northwestern United States or southwestern Canada and your prize bucking bronc has congestive heart failure or your carriage racer pulls up lame, you want _us_! You want Beth Smith!”

“And you say you’re not a real doctor!” Ford stroked the back of her hand, smiling with what looked like pride. (It was hard to say, since no one had looked at her like that in a very long time.) “Nonsense! I’m happy to see you like this, proud of what you do! I dare say that you’ve even treated the beerwagon horses.”

“Three of them!” she exclaimed, delighted. “You’re right! Why do I even _listen_ to Jerry? I’m nationally known! You make me feel _good_ about my choices! You make me feel good about myself!” She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him again.

“You should,” he said when they broke apart. “You’re a remarkable woman. Smart, driven, successful, and quite simply, beautiful. You’re the daughter of the smartest man in the multiverse, and you take after him. You and your father are the only people I’ve ever met who instantly understood the quantum destabilizer. I’m frankly grateful that you seem to have taken a liking to me.”

“And why shouldn’t I?” she demanded, tipping her face close and resting her forehead against his. “You invent weapons that break the basic laws of physics! You built an interdimensional portal! Do you know how many people have done that? Two! You and Dad! I know damn well that there are versions of Dad on the Citadel that never managed it! You take down Galactic empires and fight chaos demons! _You_ did that, not the Oracle! She might have wanted it, but you and Dad did the heavy lifting! I might have some words for her on the subject if I ever meet her. But you? You felt _sorry_ for her! You have _compassion_!”

She kept bumping his glasses, damn it. She backed off just an inch or two, looking into his eyes. “You make me feel good about jerking off horses, and _you’re_ grateful for _me_? I’m a stupid slut who got knocked up at Prom, married the asshole who did it to me, couldn’t quite hack med school because I had to be a mother to my daughter _and_ my husband—and damn it, you somehow make me feel better about _that_!” Responding to the emotion welling up inside her, she brushed the pad of her thumb tenderly over his lower lip. He kissed it, and she shivered happily. “Typical. Dad knows the greatest guy in the multiverse, and he never mentions him.” She leaned in and kissed him again. It was a very nice kiss.

“I’m tempted,” she breathed into his ear, “to fuck you right here on this wrought iron chair, because I’m a stupid slut.” She sighed and pulled back. “ _But_ I guess I’d rather get dinner than get arrested. So let’s hit the market.”

She led him back to her red Honda.

*

Beth pulled her car into a spot near Post Alley. She led Ford into the alley and he stopped, taken aback. “Is that _chewing gum_?” he asked plaintively.

“Yeah.” She grinned, finding his discomfort cute. “This is Gum Alley. People get bored waiting for the theater. It’s been like this since sometime in the 90s.”

Ford made a face, but he couldn’t seem to tear his eyes off of it. “It’s so unhygienic! I’m no germophobe, but this is ridiculous!”

“It’s Seattle,” Beth shrugged. “I heard they have signs in Portland saying ‘Keep Portland Weird.’ We don’t need shit like that in Seattle. We just _do_ weird, no reminders necessary.” She took his hand again, liking the way the six fingers closed around hers, and persuaded him to start walking. “You must’ve seen weirder shit.”

“Well, yes. The lizard people of Kalulu VII break their own tails off and exchange them with their mate upon the hatching of their first egg. That’s strange and unhygienic—but so is this!” He shook his head as they walked down the alley.

They came to the entrance and went upstairs to Pike Place Market. She had to literally drag him back to the fish market, since he kept stopping to look at various items in interest or disgust. The staff there, as well as some locals, pegged him as a tourist immediately. A local took up a position just behind and to the left of Ford.

Beth realized that was something else he had in common with her father. Wherever they were, both he and Dad seemed to be from somewhere else. Even at home. Years of wandering the multiverse had left a mark. Christ, that must be lonely, to never quite fit in _anywhere_! Ford had somehow, through doing absolutely nothing, made her feel sorry for _Dad_!

The show was starting. A local behind Ford called out “Yo! I want an eight-pounder!” Suddenly there were about two feet of fresh salmon flying by Ford’s head. Like lightening, his left arm shot up and he grabbed the fish. The crowd applauded, including the staff.

“Ladies and gentlemen, an interception! You all know the rules! Sir, would you like to purchase the fish you caught?”

Ford looked at Beth, who grinned and nodded. “Apparently, I would.” They stepped up to the counter, where Beth paid. “This is the Pike Place tradition you wanted to show me? Fish flinging?”

Another salmon was tossed to the local who had initially ordered. He caught it and slapped Ford on the back. “Nice work, mister! Most newbies duck!” He chuckled and paid for his fish.

“I thought you’d find it amusing,” Beth answered as they moved away from the counter.

“I find it appalling!” Ford answered. “Walls of used chewing gum, throwing food around! How is it that the entire city hasn’t succumbed to some infectious disease?”

Beth laughed. “We’re tough in the northwest. You say you live in Oregon now, you should know that.”

“I suppose I do. The people of Gravity Falls may not be as singular as I thought.”

“I hope you _like_ salmon,” Beth said suddenly, only realizing then that she hadn’t thought to ask. “How do you want it? I’m _cooking_ you dinner tonight!”

“Of course I do. I’m fond of it baked, perhaps with some lemon. But it will have to be an early dinner, if we’re going to finish it before my portal reopens! Should we be getting back?”

“I suppose so.” Once again, she found herself searching for ways to extend this visit. She was enjoying herself, damn it! And she didn’t want to _stop_ enjoying herself. “You came all this way to see Dad, though. It doesn’t seem right for you to leave before he gets back. Who cares if you miss your portal? He could send you back easy enough when you’re ready.”

They were walking past more market stalls, but Ford turned his full attention to her and raised his eyebrows. “You really want me to be here when your husband returns?”

She could just imagine it! “Kinda,” she smirked.

Ford laughed. “You truly are ruthless in some ways, aren’t you! I hope I never get on your bad side.” The laugh faded, but the smile remained. “I’m afraid that I’d just as soon catch my own ride home, as it were. It’s been some time since I’ve seen your father, and I would hate for him to think I’ve become so irresponsible that I cannot get back to my own dimension without his help.”

Beth shook her head. “You realize the problem with that, right?”

He blinked at her through his glasses, clearly perplexed.

“Dad?” she demanded. This should be obvious, come on Ford! “Responsible? You think my dad is going to judge _anyone_ , let alone _you_ , for being irresponsible?! He once turned himself into a _pickle_ , for God’s sake!”

“Really?” Completely missing the point, he took an immediate interest. “That sounds insanely improbable. How did he manage it?”

“Some serum?” She shrugged, remembering that day with slight irritation. It had turned out alright in the end, though. “You should stick around and ask him about it,” she added slyly.

“Beth, darling.” Ford stopped outside the flow of shoppers, pulling her hand up to his lips and kissing the back of it. “Why do I get the impression you’re reluctant for me to leave?”

“Uh, because I am?” No point in playing coy at this point. “I’m having _fun_ , Ford! I _like_ you! Why would I want it to end?”

“In my experience, all good things must.” His eyes twinkled. “But I _do_ intend to return, if that’s any consolation.”

She took her hand back, folding her arms defiantly under her breasts and staring him down. “Is that a promise? I _need_ something to look forward to.”

“As do I,” he agreed, eyes still sparkling. “You have my word.”

“Alright then.” She started walking again. “Don’t think I won’t hold you to that, either. I’ll borrow one of Dad’s portal guns and come track you down!”

He matched her stride. “I’m not sure whether I find that prospect alluring or terrifying.”

Her lips quirked upward. That was a really good answer. “Depends how long you make me wait.”

He looked amused, too. “Perhaps we should set a date. So that you can arrange to be available.”

“What, you mean like normal people?”

“I know. Silly idea, isn’t it.”

They’d made it to the exit. The rain had started up again in earnest. “Ugh.” Beth’s lip curled as she looked out into the downpour. “Wait it out, or run for it?”

“Neither, I think.” Ford removed his coat, lifting it over his head and stretching out his arms so that it almost made an umbrella. She ducked under it, pressing herself close against his side and keeping her head low. “I had this water-proofed some time ago,” he explained. “Ready?”

“Sure.”

Walking so close together wasn’t easy—they kept bumping against each other when they tried to move fast. And while the rain _did_ seem to be rolling right off the coat, it did nothing to protect them from the slanted rain coming at their fronts after they turned the corner. Their legs were soaking it up, and even spots of her shirt felt wet. Thankfully, it wasn’t an icy rain. It almost felt invigorating. They looked at each other. “Fuck it?” Beth asked. Ford nodded. She ducked back out from under him, he pulled his coat to his shoulders, and they sprinted for the Honda.

Beth practically fell into the driver’s seat, slamming the door shut behind her as Ford did the same thing on the other side. “Whew.” She looked herself over, taking in the soaked cuffs of her pants and the dark patches on her thighs and blouse. “Damn, this rain means business!” It continued to drum on the roof of the car, pouring down the windshield and blurring the view outside. She cast a sidelong glance at Ford, who had deposited his coat in the backseat and was now studying the wet areas of his pants. “Darn, guess we’re stuck here for a while.”

He looked up from his pants to give her a mischievous smile. “Do you honestly expect me to believe that after all your time living in Seattle, you can’t drive in the rain?”

“Yes,” she said simply, reaching over him to push the lever that reclined his seat.

Ford thought about it and reached a conclusion that he liked. “Because you want me to.”

She slid into his lap, untucking his shirt and slipping her hands under it, caressing his bare stomach. “Exactly.”

This time, he let _her_ remove his turtleneck. Somehow she managed to undo the top buttons of her blouse at nearly the same time. “I thought we agreed last night,” he protested lamely as she inserted her tongue in his ear, “that your car didn’t have adequate space.”

“It didn’t,” she purred, nibbling the earlobe. “For what I wanted last night. Right now, I feel like we can make do.”

“Ah,” he said, and because what she was doing with her teeth was very distracting, he left it at that.

Beth had the seat back as far as it could go, both their shirts off, and Ford’s pants undone before she kissed him again. The rain was still pounding rhythmically on the roof of the car, assuring her that no one was going to want to stop and peer in at them. Not that she gave too much of a fuck at the moment. She’d held off this morning so he could have his coffee, and she’d restrained herself after that so that they could go somewhere fun, and she’d refrained from humping him at the ice cream shop because that would have been a little too far even for her. She wasn’t going to fuck him in her bed again because at this point there _was_ a chance the family would turn up, and she didn’t _really_ want Jerry’s brains all over the bed—even if Ford assured her it’d be an easy clean-up.

But right now, it was pouring rain, and the seat reclined enough to make things possible, and damn it, she was not going to let this day pass without getting another piece of Stanford Pines! She kissed him with unbridled enthusiasm, hands everywhere, tongue relentlessly moving, hips rolling in mimicry of what she planned to do as soon as she got these damn pants off.

Removing pants inside a Honda wasn’t an _easy_ task, but with proper motivation they both managed it quickly. Ford didn’t bother to fold his clothes this time, understanding that time was of the essence. Beth’s bra was still on, but it was a transparent black lace affair that only accentuated her beauty. It did little to conceal her hardened nipples and did even less to prevent him pinching and caressing them through the fabric.

Her knees fit snugly on either side of him. Not ideal, but enough. She wiggled upward, paused to moan as his right hand moved to the curve of her ass, and slid down onto him eagerly. She moaned again, loader, and arched her back as she rocked slowly back and forth on him. His hand fit perfectly on her hip, thumb stroking the sensitive skin at the front, long fingers splayed at the top of her ass to anchor her. Beth leaned forward as much as the seat allowed so that she was almost lying on top of him, and he moved his left hand down to her other hip.

The rain continued its percussive onslaught above them, providing a harsh, unforgiving rhythm that they weren’t even aware they were following. With every roll of her hips he rose up to meet her, harder and quicker. Both of them had just enough presence of mind to marvel at the fact that the human body could be wired this perfectly, to provide this level of pleasure simultaneously. They both had the thought, though neither of them realized it was another part of the experience they shared.

With every thrust, her bra skimmed over his chest, a tiny tantalizing slice of friction that underscored the deeper sensations. Their lips found each other again, seeking the kiss automatically, and she gasped against his mouth as the start of her orgasm took her. She tightened around him as she came, drawing him into the climax with her and dragging out a masculine groan that pushed her over the edge for a second time. They built on top of each other, spiraling into a moment of transcendental perfection.

Outside, under an umbrella, a matronly lady who had decided that weather be damned, she wanted new cutlery, walked down the sidewalk on her way to the Market. She wasn’t sure what made her gaze fall on the passenger window of a parked Honda, except perhaps that its glass was obscured by slight steam as well as cascading rain. Not obscured enough, unfortunately. _Ugh_ , she thought, quickly averting her gaze. _Some blonde whore’s ass. And I thought the rain was bad! Guess I’m hurrying to Sur la Table._

Inside the car, they were completely (and happily) oblivious. Beth collapsed on top of Ford, trembling from the strength of the climax, and dreamily kissed his neck. His hands moved over her back, making soothing circles of heat and contentment. The rain was still falling outside the car, though it seemed to have tapered off slightly. She sighed happily. “That was great.”

“Yes,” Ford murmured in agreement. “That was unexpectedly wonderful.”

“Mmhm.” She sighed again, listening to the rain and enjoying having him this close. Then, reluctantly, she pushed herself up and grabbed her blouse from the driver’s seat. “Ready to get back?”

“I suppose.” He accepted his shirt when she passed it to him, tugging it over his head without sitting up. “I do want to try that salmon.”

Beth pulled her leg off him, quickly putting her thighs together and opening the glove box. As usual, there was half a year’s worth of extra take-out napkins in there. Grabbing a handful, she dried herself off and passed the remainder to Ford. Her pants and shoes were down by his feet, and she enjoyed leaning over his bare legs to retrieve them.

It was still raining when she finally put the car in gear and started the drive back home, but she got them back without incident. At the first stop light, they were still exchanging secretive, delighted glances. By the last light, he was telling her about the technology he’d found on an alien crash site in his adopted hometown.

“Take me there someday?” she asked as they got out of the car and hurried through the drizzle to the front door. “I’d love to scavenge and see if I can find anything useful you’ve overlooked.”

“Unlikely, my dear.” He held the storm door for her and followed her into the house. “About you finding anything I’ve missed, I mean. I would be happy to take you at some point.” He pictured it for a moment, as Beth shed her coat and walked into her kitchen. She’d look very good with a weapon at her belt and a magnet gun in her hand, hair flowing up behind her as she decended into the depths of Crash Site Omega. If any of the security drones had somehow survived, he couldn’t imagine her showing the slightest sign of fear. She’d probably try to make love to him inside the alien craft.

 _Try? You telling me you wouldn’t_ let _her, Sixer?_

_You know, Fordsy, I don’t think she’s ever fucked in a spaceship before. That’s a damn shame. Show her a good time._

“What’re you smiling about?” Beth stepped away from the sink and opened the fridge, collecting ingredients.

“Just thinking about taking you there,” he answered honestly. “Is there anything I can do to help? Right now, I mean?”

She dumped a bottle of lemon juice, some butter, and a bag of something green on the countertop. “You wanna snap the ends off the beans? Or check that cupboard—” She jerked her head to indicate the one—“and see if there’s a decent bottle of white?”

Ford started looking through the cupboard. “Do you have any dill? Dill goes nicely with salmon.”

“Absolutely not! My father turned himself into a _pickle_ , remember? I pitched our last bottle of it that same night, and I haven’t been able to use it since.” She shook her head at the memory. “Unpleasant associations.”

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking.”

He was so sincere in his apology, she felt bad for snapping at him. It wasn’t _his_ fault Dad had forever wrecked her ability to tolerate pickle spears with her sandwiches. “We have tarragon,” she offered, eager to smooth things over. “Will that do? Dad and Mr. Poopybutthole like it with pork chops.”

“Tarragon will be fine,” he assured her, pulling down a bottle of Pinot Noir and examining the label. “Mr. Poopybutthole! _There’s_ a name I haven’t heard in some time! You know, I have nothing but pleasant memories of him. Odd, that. Goodness knows I have unpleasant memories of most people! But with yourself and Mr. Poopybutthole, I have nothing but good.”

Beth winced—that was _another_ unpleasant association! Still, Ford had no way of knowing about any of that mess. And Mr. Poopybutthole hadn’t pressed charges. “You don’t know me that well yet.” A thought she really didn’t like wormed its way into her brain. She hated to say it aloud, but now that the thought was _there_ , she couldn’t seem to shake it. “You’re not a parasite, are you?” He was still focused on the bottle of wine, or at least appeared to be. She swallowed hard. “Would you mind if I shot you in the arm?”

He set the bottle down, giving her his full attention. “I’d rather you didn’t,” he said frankly, “but if I have to do so to prove my bona fides, go ahead. A parasite, you said? Oh! Memory parasites? White and purple worm creatures which manipulate memories to disguise themselves?”

“Yes.” She looked intently into his face. “You’ve dealt with them, too?”

“Not personally, but I’ve spoken with several people who have.” He turned away, heading toward the living room. “Let me get my journal, I think I jotted down what I—”

Beth had to laugh. “Ford!” She grabbed his arm, pulling him back. It was a nice arm, she _would_ hate to shoot it. “I don’t need a lecture on them, they’ve been in my _home_. I just want to make sure you’re not one of them!”

“Ah.” He looked slightly crestfallen at not having an excuse to educate her on something. It was cute. “That’s your only concern?” She nodded, refraining from saying _duh_ because she liked him. “I’m immune, my dear!” He cracked a smile and rapped on the side of his head. “Steel plate, remember? But if you truly need to ascertain that—”

She pulled him into a kiss, effectively shutting him up. _You were willing to let me shoot you!_ She’d already shot _one_ person who she had nothing but pleasant memories of, she damn well wasn’t going to do it to another! “I’m not going to shoot you, you idiot.” Impulsively, she ran her fingers through his grey hair, making it stick up, and kissed him again. “Knowing you’re immune is good enough for me.”

He rewarded her with a crooked smile. She noticed that he did cast one longing glance toward the living room, probably thinking of his journal, but instead turned his attention to the green beans. It was kind of nice, working beside him in the kitchen—just having someone present who wasn’t chattering on about something inane or completely engrossed in their phone was a pleasant change of pace. And he smelled good. Every time she walked past him to grab a spice or open the fridge, it gave her a tiny little endorphin high.

Once the salmon was in a pan with salt, pepper, butter, lemon, and tarragon, she stuck it in the oven and joined Ford at the sink to wash her hands. “Should be ready in twenty minutes! How are the beans coming?”

“They’re nearly done.” He picked up the pot of neatly trimmed beans as proof. He dropped the last few beans in as she dried her hands. “You’re sure you’re not going to shoot me?” He didn’t even sound particularly concerned. “I know you said you wouldn’t, but it seems like the sort of thing that works better if you catch one off-guard. And I’m really rather attached to this shirt, so I’d rather not have it ruined.”

Beth bit into her lower lip, fighting off a smirk. “If you want to take your shirt off, I’m not going to stop you! But I promise, I have no intention of shooting you. You offered to let me, so I’m going to trust you.” She reached around him to the cupboard, pulling down two wine glasses. “I like having you shirtless, but I’d hate for you to spend all night on your guard. Wine?” The Pinot was an interesting choice. She’d been thinking white because it was fish, even though she preferred red—and naturally he’d gone and found the perfect pairing. _Perfect pairing_. The words settled in her head as she poured two glasses.

“Thank you, I shall.” He accepted the proffered glass and took it over to the breakfast nook. Beth put the beans on the stove before joining him. As soon as she sat down, Ford reached out and took her hand. “This has been a lovely interlude, but I’m going to have to leave you to your life shortly.” Damn it, why did he have to bring that up again? She didn’t _want_ to think about him leaving yet. “Will you be available in, say, a week?”

Oh. Well! That was a _good_ reason to bring it up. “Are we really making a date? Like normal people?” Her face broke into a grin. “Yes, absolutely! I’ll see if I can find something for Jerry to be doing elsewhere. Maybe I can get him to take up golf again—he sucks, it’ll take him all day to play a round. I can’t promise you’ll run into Dad, though. He and the kids are in and out all the time.”

He waved a hand, dismissing this concern. “Richard can be difficult to pin down. However, he’s no longer my primary reason to visit this dimension.” He smiled at her, and she beamed back at him like an idiot teenager in love. She’d seen the look on Morty’s face enough times when he talked about that redhead at school, and now here she was just as hopelessly smitten. And she didn’t even _care_ , because she was _happy_.

“So I’ll see you in a week,” Ford promised, still holding her hand. “Perhaps the weather will cooperate this time, and we can visit those gardens.” He brought it to his lips, kiss the back. “Or we can find something else to occupy our time.”

Beth laughed excitedly. “Oh, we’ll find _something_! I can think of several somethings we haven’t tried yet, and several I’d like to try again! Do you know, I’ve never even tried sixty-nining? I can’t imagine Jerry being any good at it, and I really don’t have any desire to blow him anyway. But with _you_ , I can see it being great.” She thought about it for a minute, and her hormones immediately rose up to confirm that she liked the idea. Pity they didn’t have time to try it right now. “Hey, wanna fool around like teenagers until supper’s ready?”

“I’m not sure how to do that,” Ford admitted with a faint look of embarrassment. “I had _no_ experience with girls as a teenager, I’m afraid.”

Yeah, for some reason the smart guys never seemed to do very well with teenage girls. Beth didn’t mind. It meant she had something else _she_ could educate _him_ on. “Like this!” She opened the top two buttons on her blouse and guided his hand under her bra. “We just touch each other under our clothes, like my dad could walk in at any minute. Hey, that’s true, he _could_!” She would have laughed delightedly, but the way he was touching her was pleasantly distracting. “He wasn’t around when I was _actually_ a teenager. Let’s pretend we’re young and stupid and about to get caught.”

Ford thought of what Richard had told him about Beth as a young girl. If he’d walked in on her making out with a boyfriend, he would probably have given the young man a thumbs up and told him to make sure she finished. Now if _his_ father had caught him with a girl, it would have been extremely uncomfortable. Small wonder that Stanley had brought Carla back home so rarely. He spared a brief thought for his sixteen-year-old self, and what that awkward young man would have done with a girl like Beth in his room. A dark chuckle rose in his throat as he stroked the smooth skin under her bra.

“What’s funny?” Beth demanded, leaning forward to run a hand over the front of his pants.

He placed his hands on either side of her waist, where they fit perfectly, and pulled her into his lap. “Nothing, really,” he said, putting his hand back under her bra and kissing her. “Tell me, though.” He switched to kissing her neck. “Since you never had the experience as a teenager. Does the risk of your father walking in at any moment make this better?” He felt her breath catch as he tweaked her nipple.

“Yes and no.” There was a faint edge of a moan to her voice that made him want to do much more. “It’s frustrating, because I want more.” She tugged at the neck of his shirt, pulling it down and— This time _his_ breath caught. _So_ that’s _what a hickey feels like! Interesting. Alright, more than interesting. Very pleasant._ “But that’s kind of the point, right?” She deftly unfastened his pants and slipped her hand inside. “This is kind of hot!”

It certainly was. The following eighteen minutes was both an unending exercise in self-denial and an erotic interlude which passed far too quickly. When a timer went off from behind them, they jumped guiltily apart as though it had been the sound of a door opening instead. (The buzzing tone of Beth’s kitchen timer _was_ rather similar to the sound of a device Richard had invented long ago.) When they realized it was just a reminder to check on supper, Beth stopped trying to cover up and visibly relaxed. One breast was still outside the cup of her bra, but she seemed supremely unconcerned with that fact as she crossed the kitchen to open the oven and check on the fish.

It flaked easily, but when she stabbed a fork into one of the green beans, the bean immediately came apart. “Crap.” She tested another, with the same result. “These are overdone, guess I should have been…” She started to laugh. “Paying more attention? Or at least, you know, _some_ attention?” She shook her head, still giggling to herself. “I guess it’s a good thing we’re _not_ teenagers. We probably would have burned the house down.”

“Nonsense.” Ford pulled silverware from the drawer while she drained the mushy beans. “I have no doubt you’d be very affective at putting out fires, even as a teenager. Anyway, I prefer my green beans overdone.”

“Liar.” She kissed him on the cheek. “But thanks.” Breast still partially exposed, she proceeded to plate the food. She did _know_ she was still exposed, didn’t she? “Anyway, dinner is served! Salmon a la Beth, an old family recipe I just made up.” Oh yes, she knew. He could see the mischievous glint in her eye. “Do you want it here, or in the dining room?”

He cleared his throat. “Here is fine. I don’t stand on ceremony.”

The beans were overdone, but edible. The salmon and wine were excellent. Beth went quiet as she ate, savoring the flavors. Ford was also quiet, though that was more due to the way her exposed breast kept drawing his attention away from the meal. Beth smiled to herself. Teasing Ford was so much fun! “The tarragon works really well, don’t you think?” she asked innocently.

He nodded, pulling his eyes back to her face. “It’s delicious! Thank you, Beth. I needed this. Good food, pleasant company, certain…” He cleared his throat again, and his eyes swept back to her naked breast. “…other benefits.” Her eyes twinkled, and he smiled at her. “I don’t eat well enough often enough. A person who understands my work is incredibly rare. And a beautiful woman finding me desirable is quite amazing.”

Beth snorted in amusement. “I don’t see why. You’re a silver fox!”

Ford set down his fork and leaned forward earnestly. “People keep calling me that, and I can’t understand why! I see nothing vulpine about myself. I’ve heard the term applied to Stanley as well. I believe I’ve even seen it on his recreational vehicle. Whatever does it mean?”

 _An actual genius to rival my dad_ , thought Beth, _an intergalactic fugitive, he carries a journal everywhere for scientific notes, and yet he has no idea what a silver fox is._ Granted, he’d been far away from normal dimensions for a long time, but it was still pretty funny. “It means you’re desirable, you dumbass!” she laughed. “You _and_ your brother! It means someone attractive with grey hair.” She reached out a hand, touching his again. “I can see I’m going to have to keep an eye on you! You’ll find somebody younger and prettier and it’ll be so long, Beth!” She brought her hand back, crossing her arms under her breasts. “Well, I’m not going to let that happen! You’re stuck with me, Ford.”

Smiling fondly, he shook his head. “I don’t foresee that happening, Beth. Someone younger, perhaps. One of the people I’ve heard using the term is thirteen years old, which is _far_ too young. But no one is prettier, and there is no other woman who would understand my life. No one I can tell the things I’ve told you. At home in Gravity Falls, there is a law in place to prevent people from even mentioning such things!”

“Laws!” Beth scoffed. “Like that would stop you? You’re one of Dad’s cronies! You eat laws for breakfast! Wait! No one is prettier? Do you _mean_ that?”

“Of course I do, you knucklehead!” He offset the playful insult with a kiss to the backs of her fingers. “You’re the most beautiful, brilliant, exasperating woman I have ever met! You’re ‘not going to let that happen?’ Are you going to turn into the woman from _Fatal Liaisons_?”

“I just might,” Beth warned, grinning wickedly. “I hope you like boiled bunny!”

“I don’t even _have_ a rabbit,” Ford protested, smiling.

“I’ll get you one,” Beth assured him. “So I can boil it.” There was a beat of silence while they stared at each other in amusement, and then they both dissolved into laughter.

She was still giggling when Ford took on an imbecilic voice and declared “And I will love him and pet him and name him George.”

“Bugs Bunny!” Beth squealed. “You appreciate the classics!”

“My dear, I believe I _am_ a classic. Although really,” he added, showing proper brand loyalty, “at this point I believe I should say I prefer Mickey Mouse.”

Beth didn’t have any brand loyalty. “Bullshit! _Nobody_ prefers Mickey Mouse! Donald or Goofy, maybe. But Mickey is boring as fuck!” Her giggles took over again, spreading quickly to Ford. They fell into each other’s arms, laughing like maniacs.

When the laughter subsided, Ford sighed and checked his watch. “It’s nearly time, my dear.”

“Do you _have_ to go?” Beth asked plaintively. They left the kitchen, heading to the living room where his portal had first opened what felt like a lifetime ago.

“I’m afraid so.” As much as he wanted to return to his work and his family, the idea of this sojourn ending pained him as much as it did her. After having her near him for twenty-four hours, the idea of returning to a world without Beth felt rather empty. _You got it bad, Poindexter._ He nodded to himself. _Yes, Stanley, I suppose I do._ At least this needn’t be a permanent goodbye. “I’ll be back in a week,” he said aloud, for his own benefit as well as hers.

“You’d better!” She jabbed a finger into his chest. “Or I’m hunting you down, mister!”

The portal opened.

He smiled at her last comment. “As pleasing as I find that scenario, don’t worry. I shall return!” That felt like a good exit line. He wanted to kiss her once more, but didn’t quite trust himself to break it before the portal reclosed. So he stepped through.

Beth waited until the very last second before jumping through after him. She hadn’t thought it through, just knew that he wasn’t allowed to get the last word in their goodbye. And she really wanted to see the place Stanford Pines called home.

She had a second to process falling before she collided with a concrete floor, hard. She skinned her palms and tore the knee of her jeans, but aside from that and the shock she felt alright. She was still picking herself up when she heard a voice behind her, very much like the one Ford had used to scare the shit out of Scott at the ice cream shop.

“Ya bring home a pet, Sixer? I thought ya were visitin’ one of your old criminal buddies, not picking up some chippie.” Beth turned. The source of the voice was bigger than Ford across the shoulders, and a little shorter—though maybe that was just the slouch. The rims of his glasses were thicker than Ford’s, his chin wasn’t cleft, his hair was a bit greyer, and he had a paunch. But otherwise, the man in front of her was nearly identical to Ford. This must be Stanley.

She took in the room she was standing in. It was dark and full of flashing lights. It reminded her of the space under her garage, where Dad had kept that Korblok chained up. Bing-bong or Flim-flam, whatever the rude motherfucker’s name was. The diseased baby-eater. She looked up, and saw the portal flickering out above her. _Twenty-feet if it’s an inch! How the fuck do you step through it?_ To her left, she saw two large tubes, each large enough to hold a bear, full of glowing green liquid. It looked suspiciously like Dad’s portal fluid. Crossing her arms, she surveyed the machinery and old-fashioned mainframe computers.

“Ford,” she said, eyes latching on to him where he stood near the mainframe, “what you want to do is set up some kind of filament in the fluid. That supplies most of the energy. Dad can get by with a nine-volt battery.”

Stanley had walked over to his brother. They were both staring at her as if…well, as if she’d just jumped into their world from a different dimension. But Ford, at least, should have been expecting this. Stanley had an excuse for the stunned expression on his face. “You brought in a consultant, Ford?” He surveyed her, nodding approval. “She’s not _just_ a chippie? Ha, good idea. Mayor Tyler’s been getting a little salty about the gravity effects.”

Ford ignored both of them. “Beth!” He strode forward, putting his hands on her shoulders and scolded her. “This is totally irresponsible behavior! I have half a mind to put you over my knee!”

“Oooh, could you?” she purred, enjoying his angry paternal tone and the idea of his hand on her bare ass. A spanking sounded hot.

Ford’s face twitched in amusement, desire, or possibly both. Stanley came over and clapped him on the shoulder, laughing. “This one’s a keeper, Poindexter! Don’t let her get away!”

“He’s right, Ford,” she told him, straightening her spine and tossing her hair. “Don’t let me get away!”

He sighed. “I have no _intention_ of letting you get away! However, is following me home really the wisest course of action?” Her hand found his without looking, and their fingers intertwined. “I suppose presenting Richard and your husband with a fait accompli does have some merit to it,” he allowed.

“No, you’re right,” Beth agreed unhappily. “This _was_ a stupid thing to do. I didn’t really intend to stay, I don’t think—it’s just, you’ve spent all day in my dimension. I wanted a peek at yours.” _Did_ she really want to stay? Yes, but no. Not right now, anyway. She might be impulsive, but she wasn’t stupid. “You can get me back home, right?”

Ford’s face was a mixture of disappointment and relief. “From this side? No problem. If you’re sure you want to go, just stand there.” He indicated a spot behind a yellow and black striped line on the floor.

She stared at the spot for a second, then nodded. “Okay.” She hesitated, though. “I’ll see you in a week?”

There wasn’t an open portal setting a time limit this time. He pulled her into a long, deep kiss. “You have my word.”

“Okay then.” She went to stand behind the striped line.

Ford pushed against a large lever mounted in the floor. The portal started spinning. Small items floated up into the air, and the portal itself took on a blue tint. “Step forward.”

Beth took a step toward the portal and found herself being pulled upward into it, her feet leaving the ground. The process of defying gravity, she turned in mid-air toward Ford. “If I don’t see you in a week, I’m coming aft—” She disappeared through the portal.

There was a clatter as the portal closed and all the loose pens and small gadgets fell back to the ground. A sheaf of loose papers drifted more slowly. Stan pulled his eyes away from the portal and turned to his brother. “Care to explain what’s goin’ on, Sixer?”

Ford set about collecting the papers. “The friend I went to see was indisposed. That’s his daughter. She’s a fascinating woman.”

Stan snorted. “I can see _that_. Chasin’ you across dimensions, half spilling out of her shirt. I ain’t a genius like you, but I can add two and two!” His tone grew more serious. “Ford, a woman wants you to spank her, you hold on with both hands!” He muttered something to himself that sounded suspiciously like _Carla_ before shaking his head and continuing. “And she’s _married_? I didn’t know you had it in ya! My brother’s got game after all!”

It was stupid to feel this proud over Stanley’s reaction. But he did it anyway. “I don’t know about game, Stanley,” he said, utterly failing to stop himself grinning like a naughty boy, “but I’m extremely fortunate. Come on upstairs, I’ll tell you about it.” He set down his papers and headed to the elevator.

“All the juicy details, Sixer!” Stan followed him. “Hey, ya think a woman like that would be into the whole twin thing?”

“Very likely, Stanley,” Ford said as the elevator doors closed.

*

In the Smith’s living room, a portal opened and a blonde woman spilled out, narrowly missing a collision with her sofa. “—er you! So you’d better…oh, I’m home.” She steadied herself and adjusted her bra. At least she’d tucked herself back into it before jumping through the portal. She liked making strong first impressions, but she hadn’t wanted to meet Ford’s brother with her tits _completely_ hanging out. She buttoned the two buttons back up. Then she went into the bathroom, applied astringent and antibiotics to her hands, and went upstairs to put away her torn jeans and put on a fresh pair. After that she went to the living room and watched ABC’s _The Bachelor_. Still no sign of anyone. Eventually she went to bed and dreamed of being touched by six-fingered hands.

In the morning Beth got up, showered, made pancakes, and was enjoying a cup of coffee when she heard voices coming from the front lawn. She peeked out the window and saw her father and children. And the damned dragon. She’d really been hoping that thing wouldn’t come back with them, honestly. Oh well.

She could just make out Dad saying “Whoa, Jesus. Your dad’s been texting me this whole time? Uh…he’s at an airport with a cat. Okay, that…that sounds…wow. You know, I better check on him. Big season finale right there, you know? Better, uh, better go right now. Also, I _told_ you not to get a dragon, Morty. This is your fault. Fuck you. Worst adventure ever. Worst adventure ever.” Dad headed to the garage. Morty and Summer were saying something about feeling dirty and needing showers.

The dragon made a—was that a jerking off motion?—with its wing, looking hurt and affronted, and then flew away toward downtown. Okay, so now they’d set a pervert dragon free on the city. Sounded about right for a Sunday morning.

The door opened, and Morty ran upstairs without so much as a hello, stammering something about getting clean. “I-I-I feel dirty after everything that’s happened,” she heard clearly.

Summer shouted after him, heading to the downstairs bathroom. “Me too, Morty! Me too!” Beth heard both showers turn on as she grabbed her remaining coffee and sat down to watch the morning news. _Well, shit,_ she thought, _Dad’s gone and fucked the kids._ She wished she could summon more disgust at the idea, but this was barely even out of the norm. _Maybe I_ should _have stayed in Ford’s dimension. At least then the only one getting fucked would be me. Well, and Ford, I guess._ She smiled at the thought.

About forty minutes later, long after the hot water had run out, she noticed Summer heading upstairs in nothing but a towel. The upstairs shower was still, disturbingly, running. “If you’re hungry, there’s pancakes you can reheat,” she called after her daughter. She got no response, but a minute later there was a shriek from upstairs.

“ _Mom!_ ” Beth trudged up the steps to Summer’s room. Summer was standing there, still holding her towel in place. “Mother,” she said coldly. Beth raised her eyebrows. “There are pussy juice stains in my bed, mother. _Why_ are there pussy juice stains in my bed?”

Beth kept her face carefully composed. Summer wasn’t finished, though. “Have you been masturbating with a wine bottle in my bed again, mother?” She rolled her eyes. “At least there’s no wine stains this time! Mother, we’ve _talked_ about this. Why can’t you just get yourself a Sancho? I’d be happy to introduce you to some Traflorckians. Cvfk, Noiuyv, Sgxme, Olgfp, and Ckhzxsuqzqb would be happy to meet you. They’re great fucks. I know Dad’s unfulfilling, but you _gotta_ stop flicking the bean in my bed! Ugh! This is the _last_ thing I need after the couple of days I just had!”

Well, that was as good an opening as any. Might as well bite the bullet and find out. “About that. Your grandfather didn’t…” She grimaced. It sounded worse saying it aloud. “Did he?”

“What?” Summer looked appalled. Thank goodness. “ _No_! He never touched me! Morty never touched me either! Nobody touched me! It’s just…” She made a face. “I don’t wanna talk about it. We promised Grandpa Rick we wouldn’t, anyway. But he…they…we…we never touched each other, alright? Ew! _That’s_ where your mind went? You are _sick_ , mother!”

 _Secrets,_ Beth thought as Summer ushered her out of the bedroom. _They all have secrets._ Morty walked by, glanced in and said “Summer? _Please_ put some cl-clothes on, okay? Jeez!” He headed downstairs quickly. _Secrets._

Beth followed her son down the steps just as her father and husband came through the door. “You get the fuckin’ cat sorted out, Jerry?” she asked.

“Yes, Beth. It turns out that the cat was from outer space. That’s why it could talk!” Jerry beamed at her, overflowing with that unctuous superiority he always managed to pull off, despite being inferior to practically everybody. She rolled her eyes at his comment. _Bullshit. I’ve_ met _cats from outer space. Squanchy was a cat from outer space, for Christ’s sake! That was a fucking earth cat, you moron._ She was on the verge of saying exactly that aloud, but she noticed Dad shaking his head. Don’t ask, he mouthed to her. She kept her mouth shut, and Jerry went on into the living room. _Secrets_.

“So, Dad…” she started tentatively.

He shook his head. “Sweetie, seriously, don’t ask. We’re rid of the fuckin’ dragon and the fuckin’ cat now, that’s w-what’s important. You don’t w-wanna (erp) know. We got any wafer cookies?” He headed for the kitchen.

Secrets. They all had secrets. Even Jerry, who was too stupid to _know_ he had a secret. That was okay. Beth had some pretty juicy secrets now, too. She flopped back down onto the living room sofa, laughing softly to herself, and feeling happier than she had in years. Getting through the next week no longer felt like an insurmountable challenge. Not now that she had something to look forward to. _Guess what I really needed was a little bit of intellectual stimulation._ She thought about neutrino bombs, and vanilla ice cream, the hickey she’d left next to that star tattoo. And Beth Smith smiled. _Intellectual stimulation._

**Author's Note:**

> We wanted to give Beth something--or someone--a little better suited than Jerry. Somehow both of us came up with Ford Pines as an option, given his history with Rick. We figured we'd try exploring the idea, and as soon as we introduced them it seemed like a perfect fit. In fact, it seems really strange that we seem to be the first people who have come up with this pairing. This is the first time we've attempted collaborating on a work, but it went so smoothly it will hopefully not be the last.


End file.
